The Devil's Triangle
by TheQuietGem
Summary: It's the most brutal, wizardry prison labor camps... Immortality is a punishment... No 'innocent' witch or wizard was ever brought there... Until three unfornuate souls and one elf washed upon its shore...
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter & the Devil's Triangle

Prologue

            In 1435, a small Muggle fishing boat came across a shoreline that he had never seen before. A glass archway glistening against the hot sun stood before him. When he stepped foot upon this mirage, he quickly discovered that he was not alone.

            Two stone staircases spiraled upwards on opposite sides of a levitated arena. On either side of the dueling ground were two women, both wearing white robes and black boots. One had long, red curls and the other was blonde, and shorter than the other.

            "Who is that?" the red haired woman asked.

            "I don't know… You don't suppose he's one of _them_?"

            "I think you're right… Look at his eyes. They're so dark and narrow… And that nose! It's almost as flat as your chest."

            The blonde reached out her right hand, which held a funny looking stick, and shouted,

            "Serpensortia!"

            A large, scaly beast flew from the stick's end. It had a diamond shape pattern along its back that faded as it got to its gray rattle tail. The red haired woman froze, her deep blue eyes widened and she lifted her own funny stick. She did not say anything though.

            Suddenly, a spark of yellow lightning sprung forward. It hit the snake full forward and disintegrated it. All that was left were flakes of its shedding skin that tumbled slowly to the sands below them.

            "A Blasting Curse. Well done, Miriam," the blonde said.

            "I've been practicing over at the Sea Cradle."

            "Oh, yes… But you still need some work. Why don't you practice on _him_?"

Her eyes narrowed at the Muggle who just stood helplessly below, staring up at the two women. He took off his hat, holding it by its straw rim, and stepped forward. His knees shook tremendously, and as he walked, his bare toes dug into the cool sands, clutching it.

"All right, Demora,"

The red, curly haired woman named Miriam spun around from her platform. Instantly, she disappeared from the air and then reappeared just as quickly next to the Muggle man. He jolted backward, nearly tumbling over.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

However, he didn't seem to understand their language. Instead, he fell to his knees and started bowing down. His arms flailed about in a swimming motion, up and down. Miriam smiled at him, cupped her delicate fingers around his stubbly chin and lifted his head slightly.

"What should we do with him, Demora?" she shouted.

"If you won't play with him, I will."

And just as the red head did, Demora disappeared and reappeared instantaneously. Out from her robe's side pocket she drew her wand and pointed it at the Muggle's head. He didn't seem to understand his life was in mortal danger because he continued to worship the women as goddesses.

"Leave him alone," another voice entered.

A black haired witch approached the other two. Her robe was not white like theirs but instead golden with a copper robe tied around her waist. An orange and bright pink flower was pinned to her hair, lifting the right side up. Her lips were also painted pink.

"Or what? You'll tell your father on us?" Demora said.

"She's right. Let's just use a memory charm and send him away like all the others."

"Actually, he's coming with me," the black haired woman said. "My father has set into a law a new rule. Starting midnight tonight, all Muggle crafts, whether by sea or air, will be Disapparated and then Apparate a few miles to the East of us, somewhere in what they call the Pacific Ocean."

"He can't do that," Demora said and stepped forward. "Your father isn't in charge of making the rules."

"He is now. Mister Lee is dead. My father is now in charge of our Ministry of Magic."

"Impossible!" Miriam hissed. "When did Mister Lee die? We would have heard of it."

"Today, actually. My father, who of course you know was in charge of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is now in charge of it all!

"Your father wouldn't know the difference between a criminal and a saint," Demora hissed. "He's a babbling buffoon. I will leave my job in the Ministry if he is put in charge of it."

"Then you better pack your bags, my dear," the black haired woman said. "Miriam, hand me the Muggle."

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about it," she said.

"No, Arianna, you have no authority here. Go back to your land."

"You will address me properly!" Arianna spit in Miriam's face.

"Miss Chang…" Miriam said softly. "Fine, take the man. He's a simple fool who washed up on the wrong shore. He doesn't understand us or our ways."

"That's not for you to decide."

Arianna reached forward and grabbed the Muggle's arms. She pulled him off the ground and dragged him behind her as she walked away. A few minutes later, there was a scream and all was silent…     

Chapter 1

            For nearly six centuries, there has not been a single non-Muggle disturbance at the Devil's Triangle. Whenever a prisoner was delivered through Double Disapparation—that's when the guard Disapparates handcuffed with an anti-charm enchantment to the criminal—the delivery has been scheduled since the capture's arrest.

In nearly 600 years, no innocent wizard, unless it was a guard, has set foot upon the luscious, burning sands. Until three days from this very date.

            Harry Potter lay asleep, but not soundly, in his heavy blanketed bed. The heat of early July stung at his pale skin but Harry never felt the heat these days. Coldness nipped his tender body after the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. Sometimes Harry would have to press his fingers onto the Dursley's fire-top stove, when no one was looking of course or think him mad, just to feel the sensation of warmth once again.

            And on this July night, Harry's sweat beaded down his forehead, down his neck and way down his back. He turned over quickly in his sleep, smacking his head against the corner of his desk. But the surging pain did not wake him from his deep slumber. His lids stayed close, his irises twitching around beneath them.

            A bony, frail wizard with a twine rope strung around his neck staggered lifelessly under the squelching sun. On the other end of the rope was a slender, tall woman with long blonde hair that fell just below her trim waist. She dragged the wizard into a caged dome as a big as a small mountain.

Inside the cage on the curved ceiling was the illusion of a burnt, red sky, thundering lightning and a rush of thick, dark clouds closing in fast.

            "Number 3-7-9, armed and ready!"

            The woman threw a long wand into the ragged wizard's right hand. Then, she kicked him below his left knee and pushed him forward. The wizard proceeded to walk until he came across a spiraling staircase made of rough stone. Just as he started to climb it sluggishly, another wizard from the opposite side of the arena rose up the stairs.

            Like him, the opposing wizard was weak and sickly. His bones protruded out from underneath his thin, yellow skin. He too had a staff-like wand and had been pushed forward to fight. Tattooed in black ink on his upper bicep was a number. 9-4-7. And underneath that number was a shape, a perfect triangle with three letters inside that were very blurred.

            "Forward your wands," a loud, ominous voice boomed.

            Suddenly, there was an exchange of forceful light blasting from each end of the dueling sides. It didn't take any more than that one hit to knock off 3-7-9's opponent. Slowly, 9-4-7's right leg jerked and twisted to the side. His arms frantically tried to grip into the air, as if something there could pull him up. But there was nothing.

            Horribly, his body tilted backward and then his feet lifted from the platform. A crowd of dazed spectators did not cheer now. Actually, they booed and hissed. Their thumbs pointed downward as their chanting and rude slurs filled the dome. Soon, the arena was nothing more than an awful clamor.

            The victor stood with his wand still shaking from his hand. Quickly, another opponent was forced up and given the same routine as the last. Beneath this new wizard's platform was the bleeding body of the loser, unmoved and halfway buried into the unforgiving sand. Lying next to him was a rotting corpse, flesh hanging off its green, molding bones… And next to him, a naked skull, its forehead crushed and eye sockets unrecognizable… And next to him was another corpse… And next to him…

            "Oww!" Harry Potter awoke, startled, sitting upright in his bed. His scar burned in pain just as it had a few years ago; but Voldemort was gone. Or at least, he couldn't possibly be lurking around Privet Drive.

            Harry rubbed his lightning bolt shaped scar and then pulled the covers closely to his shivering body. He was still so very cold. Even his lips began to turn a shade of pale, pastel pink.

But Harry could not drift back to sleep after what he had just seen. He couldn't remember everything about his dream, just that there were so many bodies, so much blood and so much pain.

            The following morning, Harry lay still in his bed. It had been a few hours since his scar had hurt, and he didn't think he actually fell back asleep. All he thought about was Sirius and that he would be the first person to turn to about it. Obviously, he couldn't do that. Or could he?

            Harry grabbed his oversized sweatshirt that Dudley had so kindly given him when he had returned from Hogwarts a few weeks ago. As he pulled together the rest of his attire, Harry realized that his only mode of transportation to get to Sirius would be a Muggle bus. His Apparition test wasn't until his 17th birthday, a year away, and using his broom would break the magical code.

            Fortunately, Harry had some Muggle money left over from a while back in his piggy bank. Quickly, he smashed the white, porcelain pig into little pieces, sort of like a piñata but without the orgasmic chocolate inside. After collecting the change and single bills, Harry rushed out of his room, down a flight of steps and jumped to the front door.

            The Dursleys should still have been asleep at that time. Well, they should have been, but Vernon often liked to eat a small breakfast before his real breakfast. Aunt Petunia was still on her diet with Dudley, which was failing miserably. He was still as big as whale, but a whale was still more attractive. And so, as Harry reached for the knob, a voice made his hairs stand on end.

            "Where do you think you're going, boy, at this hour?"

            "I… I'm just going to get the paper."

            "It's Sunday. You know I already got my comics," Vernon hissed as he stuffed a wad of Dunkin Donuts into his gorged mouth. Crumbed of white sugar fell into his newly grown beard. "Where are you _really_ going?"

            "It's none of your business," Harry snapped back and turned the doorknob.

            "None of my… None of my..." Uncle Vernon put down his foot and stormed over to the door. His mouth was still stuffed with pastries. "You tell me right now where you are going and then you will go back to your room and not make a sound."

            "All right, I'll go to my room," Harry began. Vernon smirked with that grin of achievement, but it was quickly wiped away when Harry continued. "While I'm in my room, I'll write to my friends in the Order about this. I don't think they'll like it very much. Keeping me here against my will."

            "Your friends in the Order? No, no, they don't need to know about this. Go run off now, before I change my mind," he said and turned around. Vernon hadn't admitting defeat and so he didn't push the matter any further.

            Harry ran out the door and walked several long blocks, taking him about forty minutes. At the end of this walk, he found himself standing in front of a building with a Muggle sign reading, "Bus Terminals A and B."

            It was B that led to his godfather, Sirius. Just as Harry entered the building, a bus turned the corner and stopped short. Along the side read the letter B and a dozen Muggles got off it. Harry ran out the opposite doors and jumped onto the black steps. He grabbed the silver bar on the side for balance.

            When he met up with the bus driver, the man pointed at a box for change.

            "I don't know how much it is," Harry said and took out a wad of cash. "Will this do?"

            The bus driver nodded, and Harry placed the money into the box. He found his way to an empty gray seat next to an old lady wearing a rather large hat. Her entire head was shadowed by it. They didn't speak at all during the entire ride.

            "Next stop, The Gardens Cemetery."

            Hearing these words brought back some of the most dreadful memories Harry had ever had. Sirius's death itself was just as bad as his funeral actually. It had to be kept secret, in fear of the wizardry community discovering how Sirius died. Only a few select people showed up, including the members of the Order, Harry, his best friends Ron and Hermione and Professor Dumbledore. Everyone wore black on their clothes and wore white in their faces.

            As the bus came to a halt, Harry got up and exited along with the old lady next to him and a few others in the front seats. After the bus pulled away, Harry looked over the hill of tombstones.

There were so many of them covered in flowers and wild colors. But as Harry focused in on Sirius's, off on the side under a small tree, there was nothing pretty on it besides some leaves that had fallen.

            "Oh, Sirius," Harry said to himself as he approached the grave.

            For a full hour, Harry stood there with eyes fixated on the plague drilled onto his tombstone. Eights words were etched into it.

            _'The ones we love never truly leave us'_

            "And I'll always remember that," Harry finally said.

Just as Harry turned around, he screamed, "Ahh!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

            "What are you doing here, Dobby?"

            A funny looking house elf stood before Harry Potter. His ears were bent inward, and he wore a mischievous smirk on his wrinkly face. Quickly, Dobby tried to avert his eyes from Harry's but in was in vain. Harry grabbed Dobby by the arm and pulled him forward.

            "I asked you a question," Harry said as he still panted.

            "And I intend to answer it," said Dobby with a squeamish voice. "Let go of Dobby first!"

            Immediately, Harry pulled away. "Sorry. You just startled me, that's all. Now, I'll ask you again, why are you here?"

            "I likes to collect prickly cones," he said.

            "What?"

            Dobby turned to the ground and kneeled. A brown, round and pointy object lay on the ground with a small stem sticking out of it near him. Using his long, elfish hands, Dobby picked it up and shoved it in front of Harry's face.

            "You see? They makes very nice sewing needles for Dobby. Alls you got to do is break them off!"

            Harry squinted and stared at both Dobby and the prickly cone. He shook his head and sighed.

            "I'm sure you can find those somewhere else…Why this cemetery?"  
            "So many questions!" Dobby squealed and circled about. "I mean no harm at all. Since Harry Potter freed Dobby, Dobby has had time to open up shop… But no one comes. So Dobby wanted to make new socks for shop."

            "Really?" Harry asked. "You're dancing around my question, Dobby."

            "Dobby didn't know better! Dobby sees many trees and trees make prickly cones, so Dobby thought there'd be many cones and there is, there is!" Dobby pointed at the ground littered with brown, spiky balls. "Have I been bad?"

            "No… It's okay Dobby. It's just a little bit odd. Just don't sneak up on me, especially here. But it was nice seeing you again."

            Dobby nodded. "Me too, me too." And he continued to collect the cones.

            The rest of the day set Harry's nerves at ease. He had never seen anyone else near Sirius's grave before, and well, Dobby did catch him by surprise. There was no reason to suspect Dobby to be up to no good. Perhaps Harry was just a bit jumpy.

            After prancing about the town for several hours, Harry decided he should poke his head into the Dursley's home before they noticed he was gone so long. When Harry finally found himself back at Privet Drive, there something very strange sitting on the front stoop.

            An ugly, ruddy owl with choppy feathers and a twisted beak sat there. In its mouth was a brown packages tied with a string. A loop of the string bow hung in the owl's beak.

            "Is that you, Pig?" Harry asked.

He approached the little owl and reached down to take the package. The happy little bird chirped and tweeted and danced about. It was so proud of itself that it ruffled up its feathers and perked up and out its round chest.

"I bet it's from Ron," Harry said. "Come on in, Pig. I'm sure Hedwig will let you take a drink from her water."

Harry opened the door and just as quietly, shut it. He tried so carefully to tip toe up the stairs as to not alert the Dursleys to his arrival. Just as he made it to the top stair, he could hear Vernon's voice echoing in the kitchen.

But Harry did not stop. Instead, he grabbed Pig under his left armpit and the package in the right, and made a dart for his room. He jolted onto his bed, dropped the owl and the box and ran back to the door to lock it quickly.

"Sorry," Harry said to Pig who rotated its head around in a daze.

Sitting next to the confused owl was the brown package. Harry picked it up and shook it next to his ear but didn't hear anything. It was a light box, so there couldn't have been more than paper inside.

"I wonder why Ron couldn't just send me a letter," Harry said as he tried to untie the string.

After some tugging, the string was loosened and fell off easily. Next, the paper was ripped off and all that was left was a very small shoebox. It had to have been from one of Ginny's kid shoes because a picture of a ballerina slipper was on the side.

Quickly, Harry pulled the top off to reveal a shiny, golden object and a note underneath. Harry lifted both up at once and read the letter first to himself.

"Harry,

You won't believe what Hermione's parents got her! Lucky for her she got really good OWLS results. And guess who else got good ones? You won't believe it, but it's me! Maybe they sent me the wrong ones… My dad is even letting me use his car for our trip. He had to pull a few dozen strings, but he made sure it's all right.

Wait, I didn't even tell you yet! Hermione got two extra tickets for a trip with her folks to China to see the Chinese Fireball dragons!

And guess who she asked to come? You and me! By the way, Hermione asked me to use Pig 'cause she doesn't trust your Uncle or Aunt in giving you the package through Muggle mail. Send back Pig soon, and if you need a ride, you know who to ask. See you on the 13th.

                                                                                                            -Ron"

"Wicked! The 13th?" Harry said to himself.

He ran to his Quidditch desk calendar and stared at the square that read 'Sunday, July 11.'

"He expects me to be ready by Tuesday? Is he mad?" Harry said as he ran back to his bed.

Underneath the letter he had just put down on his bed was the golden object. It was rectangular in the shape and about a half an inch thick. It didn't weigh anything actually when Harry picked it back up.

"West Pacific Tour Lines," Harry read to himself…

Great, they were supposed to be on a Muggle ship. Of course, Hermione's parents were Muggles, so they'd fit right in. Harry knew the Dursleys wouldn't let him go on a vacation with his friends. Perhaps he didn't have to tell them?

If he just left with Ron, what could the Dursleys do about it? They should be happy. Harry grabbed a scrap piece of paper and quickly wrote a response to Ron.

"Ron,

            Excellent! I'll see you on Tuesday. Try to be quiet when you come. And tell Hermione I said thanks!

                                                                                                            -Harry"

He then rolled up the scrap parchment and placed it on Pig's leg. He tied it with the string from the package and patted Pig on the back.

"This is going to be fantastic," Harry said to himself.

Little did Harry know that the West Pacific Tour Lines traveled dangerously close to the eastern shore lines of modern day Japan… Little did Harry know that two wizards and one witch on a Muggle ship cause so much trouble… Little did Harry know that soon, worrying about Dobby would be the least of his troubles.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

July 13th. A light blue car hovered outside Harry Potter's window. Behind the steering wheel sat a flaming red haired boy who was none other than Ron Weasley. Next to him was a bushy, brown haired girl with big front teeth. Sitting behind both of them were two adults that Harry had met only once before.

A loud honk of the horn awoke Harry that morning at 5 o'clock. He smacked his head against the dresser next to him. They were very early and very loud. Quickly, Harry grabbed his trunk from under his bed and ran to the window.

He hadn't told the Dursleys about his little trip, and he hoped they wouldn't find out about it any time soon. But if Ron kept beeping so obnoxiously, they surely would.

"Shh," Harry hissed out the window.

He held a birdcage in one hand and his trunk in the other as he balanced himself on the windowsill. Underneath him was a two-story drop into a half dead grass lawn and thorny bushes. A cement pathway would break his fall.

"Closer," Harry whispered.

Ron turned the steering wheel to the left and reversed the car slightly. Thick smoke chugged out the back pipe as he hovered, waiting for Harry to jump on board.

"Sorry, mate, it's a tight squeeze back there," said Ron.

A woman sitting in the back opened the door for Harry. She looked very much the same from the last time Harry had seen her in Diagon Alley close to four years ago. Hermione's mother, Mrs. Granger, patted the seat next to her and motioned for Harry to get in.

So, he did what he was told. First, he tossed his trunk onto the top of the car that automatically hinged it down with some rope enchantment. Then, Harry attempted to toss Hedwig on the top, but she fluttered about in her cage.

"I don't think there's enough room for you in the back," Harry pleaded. "Pig isn't up there, so don't worry. If it gets cold, just use this wool blanket." Harry had left a chunk of cloth that he had ripped from a Weasley Christmas sweater inside the cage.

Hedwig settled down a bit, so Harry pushed her on top of the car, which secured her nicely. Then, Harry leapt into the air and onto the seat. He closed the door just in time to see a shadow underneath his bedroom door. His doorknob was turning slowly but Vernon could not get in. Harry had locked the door.

"Step on it, Ron!" Harry shouted.

And he did just that. Ron floored it, and soon, the car was invisible to the Muggle naked eye. They soared high in the air and continued flying for some time.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harry said noticing that they were staring at him.

"Hello, Harry," Mrs. Granger said. "We've heard so much about you from our daughter. She's taken quite a shining toward you."

"Mother, please," Hermione snapped from the front passenger seat.

"It's nothing he doesn't know," Mrs. Granger continued. "So, tell me, have you ever been to China before?"

"No," said Harry.

Mr. Granger tilted his head forward and leaned over his wife. "It's a wonderful place. Especially their Ministry of Magic."

"My mother and father always tell me about it," Hermione said. She turned her head to the back seat. "It's fascinating really."

"Where is it at?" Harry asked.

"You don't know?" Mrs. Granger asked. "Don't they teach you these things at Hogwarts?"

"Mother," Hermione hissed and gritted her teeth. "It's at the Wall of China. You just pass through it at the right spot, like entering Platform 9 ¾ . My parents have always wanted to go inside, but they won't let Muggles in. Once they almost did. They snuck in with a tour group and got passed the first room before they were spotted. But they travel every year to the world's Ministries, just to take pictures and try to sneak in... But they are fascinated the most with China's."

"She's right about that," said Mrs. Granger. "Their system is very similar, yet very different, from our own Ministry. Did you know they have just one person in charge of it all?"

"It's a dynasty," Mr. Granger butted in. "The Lee Dynasty was in charge since its creation several centuries ago until the 1400s. That's when another dynasty was formed."

"It's amazing that you know so much when you're not even wizards yourselves… No offense or anything, but I've never heard of Muggles knowing so much."

"We're interested in history, Harry. Whether it's magical or not, it doesn't matter to us. We still read the books that you do."

Harry nodded. "So, what happened to the Lee Dynasty?" Harry asked.

"Well, they don't really know actually. Their history scrolls just stop and start again with another name in charge."

"My parents have been researching it for years. One of their many hobbies," Hermione said. "That's why they visit so much. They think the Ministry of China is covering up something big. Every time they try to get in and ask questions, especially about the Lee Dynasty, they are threatened. Something terrible must have happened a long time ago. Well, that's what they think."

"That's really cool," Harry said.

"That's really boring," Ron blurted out.

Hermione smacked his arm hard, causing him to swerve into a thick cloud.

"You witch," Ron said. "And I don't mean that in a good way."

"I know, but you deserve it. Just keep your eyes on the sky."

Ron sighed and continued driving for several hours until they slowly descended onto another continent to refuel. It was Africa. They landed hard on an empty desert with nothing but dry sand. Ron had fortunately remembered to bring the extra fuel in the trunk and got out the car to refuel it.

Harry sat inside with the Grangers for several minutes in complete silence until finally he said something.

"Thanks for inviting Ron and me along on your trip. I know it must have cost you a bunch, and I'll do anything you want to repay you."

"Don't be silly," Mrs. Granger said. "You being friends with our Hermione is thanks enough. I remember when she was younger how she didn't have anyone to talk to or to talk about. Until her first year at Hogwarts of course. You brought out a whole other side of her."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You make it sound as if I didn't have any friends before Ron and him."

"Well, you didn't, dear," said Mr. Granger. "But, when you finally made friends, you chose the best."

Harry smiled, as did Hermione. Soon, Ron came back from refueling, sat in the front seat and started the engine. Slowly, they lifted off the ground, causing swirls of sand to circle them. Soon, a tornado of sand lifted around them, shielding them completely.

"Hold on," Ron warned as he shifted the car and stepped on the gas.

They flew through the sand, creating a big hole in the sand tornado and were off again into the sky.

The trip was long, very long. It took many more hours, soaring on top of the small dots that were cities and small drops of water that were lakes.  Eventually, with the car covered in warm, melting frost, they arrived at a row islands just under a large chunk of land called China.

"Just park the car in that oval tower building," said Mrs. Granger.

As the car fell onto the cement, Harry noticed that there were other cars parked in between white and yellow lines. A group of people with large cameras hanging from their necks and wearing floral tee shirts stood near by. One of them pointed at their car, and they all started flashing their cameras.

"A juvenile tour group," Mr. Granger sighed. "Just ignore them."

"I thought we were invisible," said Harry.

"It must have gone off," Ron said as he parked the car next to a large jeep. "I hope they didn't see us land."

"If they did, the Ministry will take care of it, so don't worry," said Mrs. Granger who unbuckled her seat belt. "Now, before we head over to the cruise ship, I don't have to remind you three about using magic? Non-magical folk like us and those tourists will be around."

"We know."

"Good. Come on, now, we don't want to be late."

The USS Galactica was a beautiful ship. It was very big with silver paint on the side and naked woman attached to the front of it. Perhaps it was some sort of mascot. In any case, the group gathered their things, handed over their trunks to the workers and walked up a short, wooden platform leading to the main deck of the ship.

Ron, Hermione and Harry would share one room together, on the bottom part of the ship. They squeezed into a narrow staircase, only a few steps with no railing at all. Down the long, small corridor were old doors, rusted walls and a swaying floor.

"I think I'm gonna puke," Ron said as he tried to lean against a wall.

"Don't tell me you get sea sick!" Hermione glared at him.

"Fine, I won't tell you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed at the last door that faced them. It was the furthest door from the staircase, all the way in the back of the ship. Room number 119.

The Grangers were not too far behind them, but their room was on the opposite side of the cabins at the beginning of the hall at room number 23.

"Come on, let's see it," Ron said, pushing the key out of Hermione's pocket.

She fiddled with it and then turned it in the keyhole. Then, lightly, she pushed the door, making the hinges squeak. Both Harry and Ron jumped back.

"Our home for the next week," said Hermione as she opened the door completely.

There were two twin-sized beds divided by one wooden desk not much taller than the low beds. One plastic light hung from the ceiling and tilted back and forth as the boat moved in the water gently.

"Maybe I'm wrong, but shouldn't there be three beds?" Ron asked.

"Oh no!" Hermione yelled.

"Oh _yes_, we'll have to share." Ron raised his eyebrows and moved his arm around Hermione's shoulder.

But Hermione squirmed away and ran out the doorway gagging. Harry and Ron stood there laughing at the whole mess. Well, two of them would have to share a bed and it didn't look like Hermione was willing to do that.

"You better not snore," said Harry.

"Or what? You'll throw me overboard?"

"You'd be surprised," said Harry.

            A few hours later, dinner was being served. The ship had set sail and was heading toward central China. Ron and Harry entered a dining hall on the upper deck that was surrounded by glass. Some of the windows had been shattered and repaired with silver duck tape.

            It wasn't very expensive looking or even decent, but Ron and Harry weren't paying for anything, so they couldn't complain. They just grabbed a plate, some Muggle utensils and grabbed a booth in the corner.

            Hermione and the Grangers soon arrived and sat on the other side of the room. The Grangers were talking to some other folk that they seemed to know and were showing off Hermione to them.

            "Do you still like her?" Harry asked as he watched Ron stare at Hermione and eat his food.

            "What?!"

            Suddenly, Ron started choking on a piece of broccoli. His face puffed out, and his skin turned a shade of pinkish red. At first, Harry that he was joking, but it turned out, he was really choking.

Harry reached into his pocket to get his wand, but before he could, Mr. Granger had rushed over and was performing the Heimlich maneuver.

            "Just spit it out, lad," he said.

            Ron's face was now draining of all color. He made wheezing sounds, and his arms shook in the air. Mr. Granger continued pulling on his stomach and punching him until finally, a piece of a green, chewed up stem flew out.

            "Gross!" both Harry and Hermione said.

            "All better now," said Mr. Granger. "You should chew your food better. Visit me some time when we're back in London. That mouth of yours can use some work."

            "Father," Hermione said and glared. He smiled and walked back to her.

            "You ok, Ron?" asked Harry.

            "I was nearly killed by a vegetable! Next time my mum says to eat them up, I'll remind her of this!"

            Harry laughed and patted Ron on the back. "It was pretty funny at first. I knew you wouldn't die from a piece of rabbit food, as my uncle calls it."

            "Did you tell your uncle you were here?" Ron asked.

            "No, and don't tell the Grangers. I'm sure they'd send me home if they knew I hadn't asked them. They should have sent a permission slip like you did when we went to the Quidditch World Cup."

            Ron nodded. "I won't tell." He paused and his eyes lit up. "Blimey!"

            "What?"

            "Look at those clouds!"

            Ron pointed his finger at the foggy window. Through the chipping glass was a churning sea. Above it were thick clouds moving in very fast. They were so dark and dreary. Soon, they would cover the setting sun completely.

            "We better get down below," said Ron.

            "Good idea. And I'll bring some broccoli for you to chew on."

            "Shut up."

            And so, Ron and Harry left the dining hall, and Hermione soon followed them (after escaping her parents prancing her around). The three went inside their cabin, Ron and Harry sitting on one bed, and Hermione on the other. All was quiet.

            "Stop moving the bed," said Ron to Harry.

            "I'm not doing anything."

            The room was shaking. No longer was it just swaying nicely, but the room tilted all the way to the left. Harry and Ron's bed was diagonal now and knocking into the side table.

            "It's just the storm," said Hermione. "It'll be over soon."

            "Harry, did you wet yourself?"

            "What? No!" he protested.

            Ron looked up at the ceiling. A quarter-sized hole was dripping water onto the bed. Harry jumped out, as did Ron, and then they turned their heads to the wall behind the bed. There, a small, but wide, gushing waterfall came down.

            "This can't be good."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione jumped off her bed near the wall and rushed to the door. She took out her key, the only one into and out of the room, and tried to unlock it. As she turned her key, the tip of it got stuck and wouldn't move at all.

"Even _I_ can open a door," Ron sarcastically said.

A thin layer of water poured down the wall against the beds. Hermione continued to struggle nearby with the key until finally Ron came up behind her and shoved her aside.

"Let a man do it," he said.

Ron gripped the end of the key and turned sideways. He continued to turn it even when his hands beat red. His face started to match his palms and soon blood rushed to all parts of his body. He wasn't even breathing. His cheeks puffed out, and his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth.

_Snap._

"Uh-oh," said Ron softly.

"No, what did you do?" Harry asked rushing forward.

Ron turned around and in his hand was half of a key. The other was jammed into the keyhole and didn't look like it was coming out any time soon.

"You idiot!"

Hermione lunged forward with her arms high and aiming for Ron's neck. She successfully gripped it and threw him down to the floor. All you could see was a wad of bushy hair in Ron's face.

"Stop it you two," Harry said. "We'll just have to improvise." He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his wand. "No big deal. Ahum… Alohomora!"

And with a flick the wrist, a light erupted toward the door. But nothing else happened.

"They didn't do it again, did they?" Hermione said and got up from the floor.

"Do what?"

"Oh! Damn," Hermione cursed. "My parents… Those folk that they were talking to upstairs were Colin Creevy's parents. They're family friends. The mother's a dentist—"

"So? What about them?"

"My parents must have asked them again to use an anti-spell enchantment on my room before dinner."

"Why would your parents do that? And what do you mean _again_?" Harry asked.

"Remember how I said my family took two trips here before today? Well, one of them was the summer going into my first year… I had just found out I was a witch and had bought a few spell books to study. So, I wanted to test some of my magic out. I ended up blowing up a few doors and trays."

"Wicked! Hermione the trouble maker!" said Ron.

"I was just curious! Anyway, my parents didn't want me to use any more magic in front of Muggles. Even something as simple as a door opening one… You can't use spells in this room."

"Thanks for telling us ahead of time," mumbled Harry.

"I didn't know they'd do it this time! My parents are just overly precautious… Holy cricket, Harry!"

"What?"

Hermione pointed at Harry's trunk sitting next to the bed. It started to float a bit due to the water but something inside was pushing it back up. Loud thumps could be heard and a scratching of nails.

"You didn't happen to bring some chocolate frogs, did you?" Ron asked. "I'm still hungry."

"No, I didn't," said Harry. "I don't know what that is."

Hermione approached the trunk very carefully. She had to lift her feet just so her socks wouldn't get completely soaked. Walking on her toes, Hermione reached for the trunk and unlatched it. Something flew out.

"Dobby couldn't breathe!"

"Dobby!" Hermione screamed and fell backward into the water. Her entire back was wet.

"Dobby!" Harry and Ron echoed and stared at each other.

The funny looking house elf got out of the trunk and stood on the soggy bed. He jumped up and down, letting the water squish between his toes. He rather liked it.

"Just picking up cones, eh?" Harry growled and ran over to the bed.

"Dobby had no place to go! I've been a very, very bad Dobby," the house elf said slowly and plumped his rear onto the bed.

"How did you live this whole time in my trunk?

"Dobby had to cut holes for air," he said and pointed back at the open trunk.

On the bottom of the trunk were small rips and tears. Water had seeped through, and all of Harry's clothes were soaked.

Suddenly, Dobby stopped all movement. He fell to his knees and started to bow down to Hermione who still lay on the swaying floor. His arms swung up and down, and he kept his eyes focused on the watery floor.

"What are you doing now, Dobby?" Harry asked.

"It is the SPEW creator!"

"It's just Hermione," said Ron.

"Just Hermione? Just Hermione?" Dobby squealed.

Then, Dobby shook his head and jumped to the ground. He helped Hermione up and immediately continued to grovel.

"Stop that!" she said.

"But you are famous! You helped free many of Dobby's friends with knitted socks!"

"I did?" Hermione said shocked. "I didn't think they would come back to the Gryffindor Tower."

"They did when Dobby left to start own business!" said Dobby proudly. "They could not stand the mess without Dobby cleaning. They had to pick up mess, and now, many are free now thanks to you!"

A great big grin spread across Hermione's face. "That's absolutely wonderful! Are they starting their own businesses too, like you?"

"No," said Dobby as he looked away. "They came back to Hogwarts."

"But they're getting money now, right?"

"Well, no," said Dobby. "They don't want money. Dobby tried to make them take it but they refused!"

The grin disappeared. "So, the **S**ociety for the **P**rotection of **E**lvish **W**elfare hasn't protected them at all. They're still slaves."

"No, they are free!" Dobby said.

"Think of them as volunteers," said Ron.

Hermione turned her head and glared, her eyes squinting. "When we get back to Hogwarts, I'm going to do something about this!"

"Fine, do that," said Harry. "Now that that's settled, don't you think we should do something about getting out of here?"

Hermione nodded her head. She looked over at the jammed door and suddenly realized something horrible.

"What is it now?" Ron asked, noticing Hermione's terrified face.

"Was there water coming in from there before?" she asked as she pointed beneath the door.

A flood of water started to pour through the crack between the door and the swaying floor. Very quickly, the water level rose and within a few minutes, it was as high as the beds in the room. Ron and Harry stood on top of Hermione's bed, while Hermione stood with Dobby on the other.

"This is bloody great! I almost died once today, I don't need to do it again!" said Ron.

"Shut up. We'll think of something," Hermione said. "If only I could open that door."

"Dobby can open it for you!"

The three turned their heads at the house elf standing on the bed, his feet still squishing in the water. His big, beady eyes stared over to the door, and he lifted his right arm. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, and without any spell, the door disappeared.

But there was no time to celebrate and thank Dobby at all. A wall of water crashed into the room, picking up every object. The beds were turned over, and two mattresses, upside down, floated to the top against he ceiling.

Hermione fell to the bottom of the room, hitting her head, and Dobby swam down beside her. Close by under the torrent of sea was Harry and Ron, trying to grab their wands from their pockets. Luckily, their pets, Pig, Hedwig and Crookshanks, weren't in the room and were on the upper deck.

The upper deck… If their room was flooded, surely the upper deck was gone as well.

Unless they were already under water.

            Dobby grabbed onto Hermione's arm and pulled her up to the surface of the water. Harry and Ron also swam with them until they reached the small six-inch block of air separating them from the water and ceiling.

            Harry coughed out the salty water, spitting ooze down his lip. It wouldn't take long for their air supply to be gone. They had to swim out or die trying.

            "Dobby," Ron said as he too spit out water. "Can't you snap your fingers and get us out of here?"

            "Dobby can! But Dobby cannot send you all very far!"

            "I don't care!" Ron shouted. "Anywhere bu—"

            Ron fell underneath the watery room. His mouth could no longer fit in the space that was shrinking at a rapid speed. Dobby quickly lifted his left arm (the right still held Hermione) and he snapped his fingers. Hermione disappeared.

            And just as he did with her, Dobby continued snapping his fingers until nobody living was left in the room.

            When they surfaced on top of the sea, they found themselves near a hoard of lifeboats, all full of passengers. Even though they seemed close by, they were nearly a mile away. The ship was nowhere in sight and must have been underneath the sea.

            "Over here!" Harry shouted to the other passengers, but no one could hear him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand from under the water, but it was terribly hard to paddle with one hand. Each time he lifted his arm with his wand in hand, he started to sink into the sea.

"Lumos!" Harry yelled quickly and light came from out his wand.

"There's an island, right over there!" Hermione shouted with Dobby still clutching her side. Obviously, she was now conscious.

"I don't see anything!" yelled Dobby.

            "You must have something in your eyes. It's right there!"

"Why aren't the others going to it?" Ron asked while he tried to keep his head above the surface.

"Maybe they didn't see it! It's closer than the lifeboats! Come on!" Hermione yelled.

She began to swim with the current toward the dark, sandy shores. Ron and Harry followed, and Dobby did too. Behind the group was a raging storm, lightning and thunder boomed in the distance. The group of Muggles in the lifeboats and the Creevy's were paddling away from the wreckage of the Galactica.

Hermione was the first to reach the shores of the unknown land. She fell hard onto the sands, her legs and arms utterly exhausted. Soon followed the rest, and one by one, the group was together on the island. Even Dobby found his way and was outright shocked when he touched the shores, and they slowly became visible to him.

Little did they know where they were… Fortunately for the Muggles, they couldn't see the island. It was invisible to anyone except witches and wizards. And the Creevy's were smart enough and old enough to know not to go upon these deadly shores.

The group huddled together, shivering and wet, and out of breath. Eventually, they fell asleep high upon the shores near a glass arch away from the crashing waves. The morning sun beamed across their faces several hours later.

Harry Potter awoke with a horrid, retched scream.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

            "The kitchen elf must have helped them escape," a voice said.

            "He has clothes on… Where did he get them?"

            "I don't know, but if our superiors find out about this, it's our throats that'll be cut."

            Two guards stood before three sleeping bodies and one twitching elf. Dobby's legs and arms moved in his sleep as if he were chasing something. One of the guards cupped its hands around Dobby's mouth, and the other tried to pick him up by the legs.

            "Feisty one, isn't he, Demora?" the first guard said. "Better take off that rag before someone else sees him."

            "Right. I'll take the elf back to the kitchen cell. You better make sure those prisoners are still asleep. If anyone sees them but us—"

            "I know; they'll kill us. And please, be quiet. Arianna should be on guard any minute now, and we don't want _her_ seeing this."

            Dobby, still sleeping, was carried off and slowly undressed. Back on the shoreline, Harry awoke with singeing pain in his forehead. He screamed, awaking both Ron and Hermione.

            Harry clutched his scar, but the pain didn't die away like it had a few days ago. He didn't remember having any bad dreams this time. Nevertheless, his scan hurt so badly that tears started to streak down his sand covered cheek.

            "Harry!" Hermione shouted as she watched his body curl up.

            "Make it stop," he moaned.

            Harry rocked back and forth, one hand on his scar and other wrapped around his tucked in knees. It was horrible. His mind felt as if it were swelling beneath his scar and pressing up against it.

            Now Hermione screamed. A blow to the head knocked Harry unconscious. The dealer of this blow stood next to the group with a long, staff-like wand in her hand. It was the robed guard. Harry fell immediately to the sandy shore, his head making a loud thump as it hit it.

            "You, shut your trap," the guard said staring at Hermione.

            She gulped and turned to Ron whose skin had turned much whiter than it normally was. The guard raised her staff again and threatened to strike Hermione when Ron leapt forward with his arms. The right forearm bone cracked.

            "Fine, have it your way," said the guard, and she held up her staff.

The sun's rays fell down upon the tip of the staff where a crystal rock was attached with rope. The rays glistened through the rock, creating a dazzling beam of light directed right at Ron and Hermione. As they closed their eyes, the woman shouted,

"Mobilicorpus!"

Suddenly, Hermione, Ron and even Harry were lifted off the sands and levitated into the air. Before they could do anything about it, the woman pointed her staff again, but didn't have to say anything.

Chains formed around their wrists, ankles and a thick bracelet around their necks. Once again, the guard pointed her staff, and most horribly, silver pins appeared, jousting through their lips. There were six metal rods, about two inches tall, which shut their lips together. A small drip of blood trickled from the side of Ron's sealed mouth.

"I don't know how you three escaped from your cells, but mark my word, the next time you pull a stunt like this, I will kill you myself," the guard said in a very real and very wicked voice.

            The Devil's Triangle was shaped like its name and divided into three separate sections. The northern point of the island pointed direct north. Muggles could only detect a magnetic increase there and constantly tried to study the area. But they would never find anything.

More than a dozen enchantments and spells protected this prison. No wizard could break them all without being caught.  The northern section held the most dangerous criminals of the Pacific; they were locked away for eternity. A wizard could not die there. Immortality was their punishment, and they would relive the same days over and over.

            The eastern and western sections held less harmful prisoners, but still criminals nonetheless. They were the laborers. They did the jobs that no wizard or witch would ever want to do. And if they resisted, it did not matter. Another prisoner could take their place and they would be sent to the Docks of the Moor.

            These docks sat on the eastern shoreline, starting from the middle and ending toward the northern most tower. There, wizards who refused to obey their cell masters would be hung from a suspending cord. Hundreds of criminals at a time swung there. Most terribly, whenever they felt the most pain, they would see their loved ones for a moment before them. This enchantment was one of the most brutal on the island. The more you were in agony, the more you got to see your loved one's illusion in front of you.

            Lying in a cell overlooking the docks on the eastern side of the island were three very young, chained prisoners.   They were the only innocent wizards and witch that had ever washed ashore the Devil's Triangle, with one exception several centuries ago… Even though this wizard was 'innocent' when he arrived at the labor camp, he had soon fallen guilty.

            Their pins had dissolved. Once Hermione, Ron and Harry were thrown into their bleak, cramped cell, their mouths reopened; no physical scar was left. Harry was still unconscious on the ground and had a nasty black and blue mark on his forehead.

            The cell was next to several hundred similar ones, all as big as a very quaint bedroom. Three elevated stones were the beds, but there were no pillows or blankets. Dirt covered the cold, slate floor. Thousands of bricks lined the room except for one door with a small, barred rectangle for food.

            "Ron," Hermione said faintly. "Ron?"

            "I'm okay," he responded. "Just a little…"

            "Scared?" she said. "So am I."

            No outside light entered the room. All they had was one pewter candle that was too high up for them to light or burn out themselves. That meant that somebody had to come in the cell at one point.

            The three of them, tired and terrified, lay still in the room for at least four hours. There was nothing really to say. The darkness and silence spoke itself.

            _Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Huh?"

Hermione lifted her head from the ground. She had fallen asleep next to Ron whose eyes were still closed. Again, there was a tapping, and Hermione managed to crawl with her elbows and knees toward the door.

A long, pale nose pointed through the rectangular opening. Hermione fell back and gasped. Suddenly, two large, beady eyes could be seen. They darted back and forth and nearly popped out of their sockets.

Just as the face disappeared, there was a small spark, and a figure stood next to Hermione's shaking body. It had a hunch and was completely naked. Twenty bumps poked out from its back for its skin was too thin to cover its spine. The creature also had long, narrow feet and hands.

"Dobby?" Hermione said. She couldn't really see the house elf clearly.

"Who is Dobby?" it asked.

"Nevermind. Wait," she paused and squinted her eyes. "You _are_ a house elf… What are you doing here?"

"Does prisoner want food or not?"

Hermione nodded her head, and the elf snapped its fingers. Three bowls landed on the ground, spilling the watery liquid inside. Just as the elf was going to snap its fingers again, probably to disappear, Hermione grabbed its ankle.

"Are there more of you? Did they bring Dobby to you?" she asked, still pulling on its leg.

But the elf just snapped its fingers quickly and was gone.

Without any answers, Hermione crawled over to the bowls and cupped one in her hands. She gulped it down quickly, and then she spat a portion of it out onto the dirt.

"Vile," she hissed. "They're trying to kill us."

Ron moaned horribly and slowly opened his eyes. "Then it wasn't a dream," he muttered.

"No," said Hermione. "If you're hungry enough, there's some sort of soup here. A house elf just delivered it."

Very slowly, Ron got up onto his feet and walked over to the bowls. He tried to bend over, his muscles throbbing with aches. Before he placed the bowl to his lips, he looked over to Harry. "Has he gotten up yet?"

"I don't think so," said Hermione.

Then, Ron took a sip of the liquid. He didn't spit it out; actually, he drank the whole bowl down with only three loud gulps. After wiping his lips with his damp clothed arm, he turned to Hermione and sighed.

"Where are we?"

"If I knew that, I'd be working on a way out."

"You're the smart one. You have to have read about a place like this."

Hermione shook her head. "This is obviously some sort of prison. I don't think my parents or the other Muggles on the ship could see this place… That means it's heavily protected by enchantments."

"Meaning what?"

"This isn't just a small jail, Ron. Really bad wizards must come here. Why else would they shield it?"

"The island form of Azkaban?"

"Precisely," Hermione said. "But I haven't seen any Dementors thank goodness."

Ron looked over at Harry. "Maybe there are. Do you s'pose that's why he's like that?"

"I don't know. But if he doesn't get medical help soon…"

Harry lay completely still on the cell floor. His scar no longer singed in pain, but merely throbbed due to the blow. His eyes darted back and forth under his lids rapidly…

"You're making a big mistake!"

"Oh no, my friend, you're wrong there," a masked man said in a very deep and hoarse voice. "You've kept me here for nearly 10 years for no crime whatsoever. You think you can lock up anybody you want? You made a very big mistake capturing me. I've discovered your little secret. All I needed was your blood to let me escape. And now I have it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Asian man said back.

"I can taste your lies, Mister Chang."

"What? No! You've got the wrong man. Please, believe me! I am not Mister—"

His throat was slit. The masked man held a curved dagger at the Asian man's neck and sliced through it quickly. A pool of blood quickly poured out of the rip, oozing down his throat and onto the office floor.

Immediately, the masked man took out a cylinder from his robe and collected some of the blood. Just as he corked it, another figure entered the room.

"Guards!" the stranger screamed.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'll be gone within a second, and you will be to blame for the Commodore Chang's death."

The stranger arched his eyebrows. "Chang isn't dead."

The masked man smiled. "Are you blind, fool? Look at him." He pointed down to the bloody man's body.

"You've killed Mister Lee! You've killed the Head Minister!" the man yelled. "You've killed him!" But now the stranger smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you, sir. You did what I could never do."

The masked man stumbled back, confused and baffled. Had he really killed the wrong man? He looked over at the nameplate on the desk, shining the name Chang back at him.

"Is this not Chang's office? It is; the maps do no lie. If he is not… Then you must be…"

The masked man approached Mister Chang who now hovered near the dead body of Mister Lee. He lunged forward with the same bloody dagger, but Mister Chang resisted. He punched the masked man square in the nose.

Just as Chang hit the man again, a hoard of guards entered. Before Chang could tell them to arrest the masked man, he had disappeared.

"Sir, are you all right?" asked a guard.

"I'm fine. Unfortunately for Mister Lee, he was not as lucky. Discard his body."

The guards hesitated, but eventually followed their orders. As they carried the body out, one of the guards stopped and grabbed Chang's arm.

"You'll have to be sworn in," he said, "before word gets out about Head Minister Lee."

"Yes, I understand. And Make sure no one finds Lee's body," barked Chang. "Now go!"

Chang grinned widely as the group left. It was perfect timing, he thought. With Lee out of the way, he would be in charge of the Ministry of Magic. Whoever the masked man was, Chang owed him a debt of gratitude.

But who was that masked man? He claimed to be innocent of his crime, but that was impossible. No innocent wizard was ever sent to the Devil's Triangle. How much did he know? Obviously, very much, thought Chang. The masked man knew about the only way to escape the island and he almost succeeded. Almost. He would be locked away for Lee's murder; Chang would make sure of it.

 Everything started to become white and hazy… Harry Potter awoke with a pair of sweet lips kissing his forehead. It was Hermione Granger.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

            "Dobby won't clean!"

            "He gives himself a name," a house elf hissed.

            "He tries to wears _clothes_," said another one with a loathing voice.

            "He won't work."

            Close to two hundred awfully thin elves gathered in one very cramped room. Pots and pans dangled from the high ceiling which soared three stories up. The other floors had several rooms, each with a locked door.

            The group of elves cornered Dobby against a low stove. As they moved in closer, Dobby was forced back, and his hands slipped onto the lit stovetop.

            "Ah!" he yelled and quickly pulled his hands away.

            "Where do you think he came from?"

            "He's so strange."

            As the group continued to study and mock Dobby, a taller house elf entered the scene and jumped on top of a wooden counter. You couldn't even tell it was a female until she spoke in a very high, squeaky voice.

            "Why aren't you working!?"

            They stopped in their tracks and turned around. At an amazing speed, they ran back to their stoves, counters, fridges and tables. Each house elf grabbed something to do, leaving Dobby alone rubbing his burnt hands.

            "You there, what's wrong with you?" the female asked and leapt forward toward him.

            "Dobby hurt himself… Dobby doesn't belong here."

            The female looked down at his reddened hands. "You're right. You don't belong. Why do you refuse to work?"

            "Because Dobby is free!" he yelled.

            The room was silent; no pan was scrubbed; no meat was chopped; no soup was poured; no floor was swept.

            "Free?" the female whispered in a very shocked voice. "No one here is free. You lie. He lies!"

            "No! Harry Potter freed Dobby!"

            "Who is this Harry Potter?" asked the female.

            Dobby stood at the faces of so many wide-eyed elves. They truly never heard his name before. The concept of freedom was completely foreign, which is expected from house elves.

            "You will never speak that foul word again, D-o-b-b-y," she said. "You will never have a name. You will never be free!" She turned her head and glared at the room. "What are you all doing?"

            Immediately, the noise clattered once again. The female turned her back on Dobby and left the room. She must have been some sort of keeper. This wasn't very normal of typical house elves to have a leader, unless it was their master. Things were very different here.

            But Dobby knew he was free. He wouldn't go back to work without pay. It was as if he were back in Hogwarts… If only they had some clothes to pick up. Dobby continued to rub his hands and stood there as dozens of elves rushed by with bowls and spoons. He had to convince them he was free… He had to find the one who freed him. He had to find Harry Potter.

            "How do you think they escaped?" asked a red haired guard.

            "They _didn't_," said a blonde haired one. "I shouldn't have to remind you. No one escapes."

            "Have you forgotten the Riddle man in the late 1800s? Or do you believe, Demora, that he just died, and we never got his body? You're stupid if you do."

            Miriam drank down a glass of purple wine, letting some of it drip onto the center of her robe. Just as she was about to try to blot it, Demora reached across the table and grabbed her wrist.

            "You speak of things you shouldn't around here. You always have. If Arianna hears you talking about prisoners escap—about you know what, she'll question us. And you will be the one saying something, and I'll be killed for it."

            Miriam laughed. "You can't die here. How long have we been working here? 600, 700 years now? Ever since this place was built."

            "Seven hundred and twelve actually. You're losing count," said Demora, swiping her blonde hair out of her chicken and rice. "I was here a few months before you just when they started recruiting guards from around the world. I should read the contract more carefully."

            "You knew this job would your only and last one. Don't try to tell me that you didn't," said Miriam. "This island gives not only our prisoners immortality, but us as well. Anyone who touches this soil."

            "Unless it's a Muggle…"

            "We stopped doing that a long time ago."

            "Under a new order that we never wanted," Demora said and then spat out a chicken bone. After some silence, Miriam spoke once again.

"I still wonder. How did Arianna get that Riddle man to escape, and why did she do it? Her father nearly killed her for it. I wish he did."

            "Shut it, Miriam," hissed Demora. "You see this is what I'm talking about. You say these stupid, stupid things out loud!"

            "It's nothing more than the truth."

            "The truth can still kill you… What was that?"

            Dobby fell to the ground and crawled throughout the kitchen. Wobbling knees and shaking legs kept bumping into his head. A few spoons here and there fell, smacking Dobby's already injured hands.

            There had to be a way out without that female elf seeing him. Even though house elves look the same to most wizards, one elf can easily tell the difference from another. Dobby would be spotted on sight if he tried to use one of the doors.

            Unless he decided to work. It went against all the freedom he had been given, to become a slave once again. He just told himself it would be temporary. Just until he found Mister Potter and brought him back so he could tell the other elves he was innocent.

            But he had no idea where to start looking. He didn't even know where he was, or if Harry was on the island. More than likely, he was in one of the towers. Dobby couldn't ask anyone without looking suspicious… Or could he?

            Dobby got off his knees and grabbed a bowl off the table. It was full of some dreadful looking soup with dirty brown, round globs of gunk stuck to the bottom. Carefully, Dobby picked it up, his hands blistering beneath it, and hurried behind a group of elves with similar bowls out the door.

            He followed the group down a very windy corridor and then to an arched door. The first elf held out his hand and placed it on slate attached to the doorframe. There was a long handprint etched into the stone, and when the elf pressed his hand into it, the door slid into the ground below.

            The elves ran across wet, soggy sands that tickled beneath their feet. They continued to quickly run for a few minutes until another tall tower came into view. It was at least fifteen stories high with absolutely no windows whatsoever. There was only one door into the tower with the same funny, slate panel.

            Dobby turned his head to see almost a dozen towers surrounding the island. Four of them were on the opposite side from him, two of them northern and then there were some surrounding the one he was just about to enter. They all looked exactly the same except for the two northern ones. They each had one window on the top with a glowing, beacon like light shining.

            When Dobby turned his head again, the group of house elves was gone already, and the door had reappeared. He ran toward it, throwing down the bowl of disgusting soup and knocked with his fists. But nobody answered.

            Ever so carefully, Dobby slid his hand into the handprint and pressed. He closed his eyes, unsure if it would work or blare alarms at him.

            When he reopened his eyes, he found that the door had disappeared. Dobby ran forward, just as it started to rematerialize. He rolled forward, tucking in his knees and smashing his head into the ground. When he lifted his head again, he was inside the tower, all in one piece.

            But where to go now? The walls were barren, dark and cold. Nothing hung from them, or gave any clue as to what direction to go in. Dobby would have to visit many rooms, hundreds of them, if he were to ever find Harry.

            "You there," a woman's voice said.

            Dobby's heart pounced. He tried to calm himself and hid his burnt hands behind his back. Someone stood nearby him. He could feel their breath.

            "Are you the one they found on shore?"

            When Dobby turned his head, he saw a woman with slit eyes and dark, black hair. She wore an oversized robe with a golden threaded belt hanging along her curvy waist.

            "Well, are you the one they talk about?" she asked.

            Dobby shook his head. "Talk? No time for talk. Must delivery soup."

            "Where is your bowl then?"

            Dobby looked down and realized he had dropped it before he entered. He hesitated to answer. Something about the woman knotted Dobby's stomach. Instead of answering, Dobby ran his head into the wall. If the house elves were anything like the ones in Britain, they deserved punishment if they did something wrong. He knew from experience.

            "Stop doing that," she ordered. "No need to kill yourself over it."

            But Dobby continued smashing his baldhead into the bricks. It wasn't until the woman literally lifted Dobby up off the ground that he stopped.

            "All you elves are alike… Go back to work."

            She threw Dobby to the ground and walked toward a brick wall. Dobby watched intensely from the floor, his chin lying on the cold stone, as the woman's feet entered the wall and were gone.

            There was no one else around. So, Dobby got up and ran forward into the exact same spot, hoping to find himself somewhere lit and warm. Instead, he plowed into the very solid bricks hard, cutting his lip open and causing a line of blood to flow from his nose.

            He fell backwards and onto the ground, his body badly hurt. He stayed that way until a group of house elves passed by several hours later with empty soup bowls in their hands. They picked Dobby up over their shoulders and slowly carried him out of the tower.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

            Hermione walked over to Harry's sleeping body. He was so stiff, rigid and very dead looking. It chilled her, seeing him so pale and still. She gently bent over his body and kissed him on the forehead. Two green eyes fluttered, and the lids snapped open. As Hermione moved her head up, she made eye contact and leapt backwards, her heart racing.

"Ron, he's awake!" yelled Hermione.

            "It's about bloody time."

            His forehead was still black and blue. Harry had been unconscious for two days now, and his dreams were getting worse. They were so intense, and details so were crisp and exact. It was as if those events really happened. Little did Harry know they did nearly six hundred years ago.

            The room spun around him. Harry was seeing double of everything, and it was all quite blurry. After a few seconds, everything became more focused. The first face he saw was Hermione, her mouth grinning.

            "Are you with us, Harry?" she asked sweetly.

            He rubbed his head, remembering the singeing pain. Something was causing his scar to hurt once again, and only one person he knew about did that.

            "Do you think He's here?" asked Harry.

            "Who?"

            "You Know Who."

            "Oh, _Him_," said Ron. "I dunno. Why?"

            Harry shrugged. "No reason, really."

            If he told them his scar was hurting again, he knew they'd immediately think He was around and out to get Harry. But it wasn't necessarily true. Old scars sometimes hurt. Maybe it was trying to heal itself. Harry didn't know the answer, but he didn't want his friends worrying about, especially in a place like this.

            Harry took a few seconds to assess his surroundings. It was a very small room, dark, fairly cold and no real furniture. He was lying on an elevated bed made of gray stone that was incredibly smooth. Three empty soup bowls were lined up nearby in front of a shut door.

            "At least we get fed here," Harry said.

            "If you can call it that," said Ron. "We each get one bowl a day."

            "So it's like living with the Dursleys. I can survive on that easily." Harry tried to smirk but instead yawned.

            "You can't possibly be tired," said Hermione. "You've been sleeping for 48 hours!"

            "I don't feel like it."

            "What do you feel like then?"

            "Like… Like I just closed my eyes and was ready to dream, but was suddenly woken up. Forty-eight hours? Are you sure?"

            "We've been here next to you the whole time."

            Harry sighed and then stared at the dirty floor. There was about an inch of soil covering some sort of stone. As Harry continued to stare at it in a daze, he thought he saw a very small spark of light coming through a crack in the floor.

            He got down onto his knees and crawled over to the space. Hermione arched her eyebrows and gave him a strange look.

            "Are you okay, Harry?"

            "Shh," he said back.

            Using both of his hands, Harry brushed aside the dirt and blew away the remaining soil with his hot breath. A slate floor and one very small crack in between two pieces of rock were revealed.

            "What are you doin'?" asked Ron.

            "Help me move this," said Harry.

            Ron shrugged his shoulders and bent down. He reached forward with right forearm still hurting from that staff-like wand that nearly knocked him unconscious only two and half days ago. At least it wasn't broken.

            "I can't get my fingers under it," muttered Harry.

            "Maybe it doesn't move," said Ron. "Why do you want to remove it?"

            ""Cause I thought I saw something."

            "Oh, Harry. The mind starts to play tricks on you when you've been locked up in a place like this… It was probably the candle light's reflection."

            "Reflection off of what, Hermione? There's nothing to reflect it, and I'm _not_ imagining things! I saw something."

            "If you say so, mate," said Ron. "If I had my wand still, I could use it. I think lost it out in the sea."

            Harry reached down into his own robe and found a stick-like object. When he pulled it out, he discovered a perfectly fine wand, with no damage to it whatsoever.

            "I wonder why they didn't take it from you," Hermione said. The boys looked at her funny, and she rolled her eyes. "It's a weapon. They don't allow prisoners to have weapons."

            "Maybe they forgot mine?"

            "I don't know. Something doesn't seem right about this."

            "You're being overprotective," remarked Ron. "Go on, Harry. Give it a shot."

            He raised his wand high above his head and then slowly focused it on the rectangular piece of slate. After a few seconds of thinking about what spell to use, Harry snapped his wrist and said,

            "Evanesco."

            But the slate did not vanish like Harry expected it would. Instead, something truly awful happened.

            "Your wand! It split it half!" Ron yelled. His voice echoed throughout the cell.

            Harry's single phoenix feather wand was now in two pieces, one in Harry's hand and the other was completely missing. Horrified, Harry looked about, trying to find the other half but it wasn't in the room.

            "I knew that was too simple," said Hermione. "We can't use magic here. Why would they let prisoners do that?"

            "Since _you_ know so much, tell us how to get out of here," snapped Ron.

            "You know that isn't fair," she started, but paused when she caught sight of Harry from the corner of her eye. He was on the ground attempting to pry open the piece of slate using half of his wand as a type of levy.

            "Harry, you're going to break it even more. Just—"

            "I almost got it," he muttered.

            Surprisingly, he was right. The stone slate started to loosen slightly, and as it did, Harry quickly grabbed onto its edges and threw it off. Underneath the piece of slate was a very wrinkled and torn scroll.

            "Well, whatta you know," said Ron in amazement. "Go on, pick it up."

            The scroll was rolled up tightly, was very thick and muddy yellow. When Harry grabbed it, the paper was very rough and wrinkly against his sweaty skin. Slowly, he tried to unravel it, but it kept rolling up on itself.

            "Give me a hand," he said to Ron who now held one end of the scroll.

            Harry pulled on the other end until the paper was completely flat. It was no bigger than piece of Muggle computer paper, but it was very thick, about one inch. However, it was completely blank.

            "What do you s'pose it is?" asked Ron.

            "It could be anything."

            "It could be a trick," remarked Hermione. "I wouldn't do anything unless we found out more about it."

            "Hermione, there aren't any libraries around here for you to do your little research in! There aren't any teachers to consult. We aren't in Hogwarts anymore."

            "_Please_," she said. "Really, Ron, I'd think after five years you'd know a little better. That scroll could put a curse on us. It might kill us. We don't know."

            "Exactly, we don't know! And would it really be bad if it killed us? I don't think we're getting out of here any time soon, and that soup might kill us anyhow," said Ron.

            He continued to hold onto one end of the scroll, gripping it tightly. Hermione was ready to lunge forward to strangle Ron once again, but Harry flung out his arm to stop her and almost dropped the scroll. He immediately held onto it again and said,

            "Both of you stop it! Ron, don't joke about dying here—it's not helping any of us. And Hermione, at least pretend that something good might happen… I'm going to try something."

            Harry placed the scroll on the ground and kneeled upon it. He then grabbed the half of the wand he used to pry upon the slate and pointed it at the scroll.

            "Harry—" Hermione started.

            He ignored her. "There may be invisible ink. If I can—"

            Before Harry could try anything, Hermione practically flew toward him and grabbed the broken wand from his hand. She then threw it across the room. It smacked a brick wall on the side and then shattered to the ground.

            "You witch!" yelled Ron. "Are you mad?"

            "I'm the only sane one here apparently," she said with a very proud voice. "Last time you tried to do magic, Harry, your wand was almost _completely_ destroyed. Are you that foolish to try to use a spell and with a broken wand? You could have gotten yourself and us killed."

            "I knew what I was doing," slowly Harry said in a very deep and angry voice. "Now we have no way of seeing what's on this scroll!" Harry picked up the paper and held it in his hand. "This could have been our way out! Now what? What are you looking at?"

            Hermione and Ron's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. First Hermione's jaw dropped, then Ron followed just the same. Quickly, Harry turned his neck and caught sight of the same glimmer that he had seen before. It was coming from the center of the scroll.

            "Don't-touch-it," mouthed Hermione.

            But Harry took his left hand and tried to unroll the scroll anyway. The center of it glowed a golden yellow. Very carefully, Harry placed the paper on the ground, again using his knees to keep it from rolling up, and stared at the shimmering light.

            Maybe something had to be said to see what was on the paper. Harry thought about several different phrases before saying,

            "Show yourself."

            Nothing happened.

            "Reveal your words."

            Again, nothing.

            "Open sesame!"

            "Harry, stop it. It's not working," said Hermione.

            He sighed and placed his right palm onto the scroll's center where the glow came from. Just as he was going to admit defeat, something extraordinary happened.

            The scroll levitated into the air. It floated high toward the pewter candle, and then, it slowly descended until it fell back to the floor.

            Before anyone could say anything at all, black ink bled through the paper. Literally. A dark blood-like substance oozed out of it, staining the slate beneath it. Just as quickly as it appeared, the ink on the scroll was gone… But something had be written beneath it on the gray slate…

            Harry lifted the scroll and threw to Hermione who instantly caught it. Tattooed into the stone itself was a triangular shape with rough edges and little arrows around it. On the top had the letter N. On the sides, W and E.

            The three huddled around it, got to their knees and studied the strange drawing intently. It was a map. The ink had already dried permanently into the stone. As they stared at the symbols and lettering, the scroll started to disintegrate right inside Hermione's hand. Before she knew it, it had crumbled up into little yellow specs.

            She didn't even realize the scroll was gone. Her eyes were fixated on the tattooed map.

            On the bottom was a hill-like swipe of ink that could have been an archway. Straight lines made a perfect triangle around the island, perhaps the walls. Inside these walls were several towers. Two rectangular ones were drawn under the letter N on the top of the map.

            On the sides were even more buildings. Harry quickly pointed at a rectangle next to the letter E. There were three black dots in a circular formation smack in the middle of the rectangle. Harry looked up and over to Hermione and Ron.

            "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

            "That's us," Ron said.

            "At least we know where we are now," said Hermione.

            "Question is, how do we get out?"

            "I don't know… What I'd like to know is who made this map. It seems enchanted, but that's impossible. There's no magic here."

            Harry shrugged. "Let's not worry about how it got here. Look, there are some docks right along the eastern shore. Perhaps there are ships there."

            "Do you really think they'd allow boats to wash up along shore, Harry?" asked Hermione. "This is a prison. They wouldn't be stupid enough to do that."

            "Then what are they used for?" pointed out Ron. "It's the only side that has a break in the wall. See."

            He was right. The lines surrounding the island stopped briefly and started again right next to the Docks of the Moor. Unfortunately, Ron didn't know that that path was heavily guarded and used only to transport new prisoners to be hung.

            "Okay. Now that we know where to go, for now, how do you s'pose we get there?" asked Harry.

            "We'll still have to work on that part—Shh. I hear someone coming."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

            The island shook. Every building slightly moved, creating squeaks in the floors and rumbling down the halls. Almost all prisoners inside their cells jumped up and ran to their doors, expecting food. Guards stopped their conversations because they also thought someone was coming.

            However, the second rumbling was much louder, and the sands shifted even more. Miriam and Demora left their dining table and rushed out the doors. As they left, a few house elves snuck in by a side door, grabbed their dishes and cups and ran off just as quickly.

            The red haired guard, Miriam, poked her head outside the door. She squinted her very round eyes until she saw one very white figure standing in the middle of the island. Suddenly, she gasped, jolted back inside and turned to Demora.

            "What is it?" asked Demora.

            "It's a Yeti!"

            "No really, what is it?"

            But Miriam's face was completely still. She wasn't joking. A furry, huge Yeti was just standing in the middle of the island. Each time he shifted his weight, the ground shook.

            "A Yeti wasn't scheduled to arrive, was it?"

            "We don't enough food to feed that thing," Miriam said. "Whose bright idea was lock one of those here?"

            "It was mine," said a scratchy voice. A black haired woman walked forward with slit eyes. It was Arianna Chang. "The International Task Force in Tibet needed a highly shielded place to store their most dangerous and murderous Yeti.  He has eaten over a hundred Muggles and has even recently killed a wizard who tried to stop him from harming a Muggle."

            "And your father approved of this?"

            "He was the one who signed him over… Now, this Yeti is to be locked up in the second Northern Tower, cell number 199."

            Demora laughed. "You expect us to hand cuff a Yeti? He'll eat us whole."

            "Then I hope he doesn't have bad stomach acid."

            Arianna smirked, snapped her fingers and Disapparated.

            "I hate it that she can do that," remarked Demora.

            "Only because her father built this place. Don't worry. She'll get what's coming to her one day. We better gather the Guardian Rule. It'll take a miracle to chain that bloody Yeti up."

            Word spread like a juicy rumor, gossiping from ear to ear. It only took fifteen minutes for a majority of the guards to meet in the middle of island called the Midpoint. They stood horrified at the white beast before them. The Yeti was slightly being than a man, very broad, very white and with gigantic sharp teeth protruding out its mouth.

            Demora was second in command of the Guardian Rule, right underneath Arianna. Of course, Arianna was nowhere in sight, so Demora had to lead the group. She nervously walked forward, her staff-like wand in hand.

            The Yeti turned around, its thick, dark brown gums sticking one. Globs of saliva dripped off its jaw and meshed into its unstained white fur.

            "Guards, prepare to lock him," Demora commanded.

            Each and every wizard or witch now pointed his or her wands at the Yeti. Hands shook tremendously, legs battered side by side, and even one wizard urinated himself, creating a large wet spot on the front of his robe.

            "Graaaaa!" the Yeti roared, spitting out a chunk of slimy mucus from his throat.

            Half a dozen guards drew back, but Demora motioned them with her hand to stay where they were. Taking charge, she was the first to step forward completely.

            "You have no rights here," she said loudly. "All personal items, if you have any, will be taken away now."

            She focused her wand and pointed it at the Yeti. It didn't even look like she did anything. Maybe it was because the Yeti had nothing with him except his bad temper.

            "Guards! Stay where you are! Now!" Demora shouted and jumped forward with her wand.

However, the Yeti flung out its arm, punching her in the stomach. Demora flew backward, her spine cracking as it hit the ground. She lay twitching, her body screaming in agonizing pain.

Without their leader, the Guardian Rule scattered. But their legs weren't fast enough. The Yeti turned around and leapt toward the first two witches he saw. He grabbed them by the legs as they desperately tried to hang onto the sand.

He opened his jaw, letting a putrid odor out. Inside his mouth were two sets of razor blade teeth, all yellowish white and gooey with spit. The Yeti bit into the first witches' leg, right underneath her knee. He chomped right through the bone and at the shin whole.

Blood poured down his lips, trickled down his chin and stained his white fur.

A tall wizard snuck up behind the Yeti as he chewed on the dead witches' body. After the beast spat out the thighbone, the wizard struck the Yeti and attempted to put him in a Bewitched Sleep, much like Dumbledore did for a group of a students who were held prisoner by the merpeople. But the difference was that this wizard failed.

The Yeti merely yawned, shook his head and then turned around. A set of bleeding toes stuck out of his mouth. He quickly swallowed them without chewing and opened his mouth again.

The wizard raised his staff, ready to use a spell on him, when the beast stabbed him with his long, sword-like fingernails. He created a round, open wound in the wizard's chest, right through his robe. Then, the Yeti stuck out its tongue and collected the sweet red juice pouring out. He licked his lips and sucked down the blood.

            Their cell no longer rumbled. Whatever sound Hermione heard before was replaced with terrifying screams outside.

            "It sounds awful out there," said Hermione.

            "Maybe they're torturing the prisoners."

            "Let's hope not," said Harry as his stomach growled. "When are we gonna be fed again?"

            "I don't know. Better be sometime soon."

            And soon the soup did arrive with an unexpected person delivering it.

            Dobby awoke alone on a netted cot. He swung gently between two sturdy mops anchored in buckets of soapy water. When he tried to get off of it, his toes jammed in between the holes, and he fell face forward onto the cold ground.

            For some odd reason, his bones had been mended from running to that wall. The only pain he felt at all was in his left cheek, right where he had just landed.

            "Stupid Dobby," he said to himself.

            He shook his head and made a 'bur' sound with his lips.

            "Are you ok?" a high voice asked.

            Dobby spun around to see a very pretty house elf. She had dark, purple eyes with small slivers of silver in them. Her lips were plump and glossy. And her bare breasts hung… Dobby quickly looked away from them and put his hands over his eyes.

            "What is wrong?"

            "You do not wear clothes," he hissed. "I can see, well, _everything_."

            "Clothes?" she said in an extremely high-pitched voice. "You're the one who claims he's free… Is it true?"

            "Dobby does _not_ lie!" he shouted and pointed his nose up high in the air.

            "I never said he did. That is your name then? Dobby?"

            "Yes. What is yours?"

            "A name? I have none," she said.

            "Then what does your master call you?"

            "The keeper is everyone's master."

            Dobby never heard that name mentioned before. The keeper? It must have been someone rather important on the island.

            "And does this keeper have a name?"

            She shook her head. "We never speak his name. It is bad luck."

            Dobby was shocked. Typical house elves didn't believe in superstition. Actually, they believed whatever their masters believed and that was it.

            "Well, just say it to Dobby then. Dobby won't tell anyone."

            "All right… Only because Dobby is free," she said. "And I wishes to be free as well."

            "Really?" Dobby asked surprised. "Dobby didn't think any of you natives wanted that."

            "Some of us want to leave and go work elsewhere… We've been here too long."

            Dobby nodded. "If Dobby helps you and your friends find clothes, then we go to your keeper, and Dobby will make sure he gives you clothes. And then we goes and find Dobby's friend, Harry Potter."

            She hesitated to answer. In the distance, rumbling could be heard and terrible moans. Blocking out the sounds, eventually, she nodded her head.

            "The keeper lives on the top of the tallest tower in the north. He built this island long ago."

            "What is the keeper's real name?" Dobby asked again.

            In a low, whispering voice she answered, "Mister Chang."

            "Chang? Dobby knows of a Chang back in Hogwarts!"

            "What is this Hogwarts?" she asked.

            "It's a school for wizards like Harry Potter… Dobby used to work there after having terrible master Malfoy… Harry Potter studies there with friends. Dobby remembers Harry talking about a Chang. Cho Chang."

            "I've never heard of a Cho Chang. Only Mister Chang and Arianna. She is a different type of keeper."

            Dobby nodded, but didn't really understand. Before he could respond, another female house elf entered the room. It was the one from before who seemed to be in charge of all the other kitchen elves.

            "So the liar found a friend," she said harshly. "I should have both of you hung for this get-together. Conspiracy!"

            She stood next to a wooden doorway with her long arms dangling near her knees. They were in a very large storage room full of brooms, mops, bowls and boxes. The nasty female elf approached the other two; her pointy teeth stuck out of her lips, and she motioned to strangle Dobby. However, the new, beautiful house elf stepped in front.

            "No! Dobby doesn't know our rules!"

            "Silence!" she snapped her fingers, and her glossy mouth disappeared.

            "Bad! Very bad! Very very very BAD!" yelled Dobby.

            Suddenly, Dobby flung his hand forward, and using a power hidden inside of him, he forced the nasty elf to fly across the room and smack her head into a wall. She fell down, her skull cracked. Then, Dobby snapped his fingers, and the beautiful elf's lips returned.

            "Dobby is very strong," she said right away.

            "So are you…Dobby and you must go now before others sees this… You, You needs a name," Dobby said.

            "Poppy."

            "What?"

            "P-o-p-p-y," she spelled out.

            Dobby smiled. "Poppy… Dobby likes it."

            The two sneaky house elves fled from the storage room. They were one floor above the kitchen area. It wasn't very hard to get out. All they had to do was grab some soup bowls and pretend to walk to another tower nearby.

            Dobby found his way out the corridor with Poppy behind him. First, they had to find her clothes. It didn't take very long to find some… But a dead wizard wore them.

            Horribly, the Midpoint was littered in bodies. The Yeti continued to fight off any guard that tried to put a spell on it. No wonder Tiber had such a problem with it. He was resistant to a majority of magical enchantments. Dobby tried not to look at the bloody mess. Instead, he tiptoed near a dead body far away from the Yeti's rampage.

            Carefully, he grabbed the bottom part where there was little blood and ripped it off. Dobby turned, ready to give it to Poppy to hold, but she was gone.

            "Poppy!" Dobby yelled. "Poppy!"

            He panicked. His eyes darted back and forth, and he started to tremble all over his frail, little body. Then, he felt very warm breathe prickling his neck.

            "Grraaa," a voice howled behind him.

            Dobby gulped loudly and turned his head to see a set of bloody teeth only a few inches from his head.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

            A beam of pink light soared across the field called Midpoint. The Yeti, whose mouth hovered less than an inch over Dobby's sweaty bald head, let out a horrible moan. Immediately, he lifted his jaw up and stumbled backward. He turned around to see a very pretty elf, Poppy.

            Her arms were stretched in front of her body with her palms facing outward toward the white Yeti. Again, she released a sparkling array of bright pink, which hit the Yeti square in the chest.

            Instead of running forward, his mouth watering, the Yeti swayed to the side. All his weight was on his right leg until it finally gave out. He fell face forward onto the bloody sands.

            Dobby opened his tightly shut eyes and was surprised by the cool, sea breeze rubbing against his face. No longer was there a hot, fleshy breath panting over him.

            Then, not too far away, Dobby caught sight of his hero. She stood shaking, her arms still at in front of her. A few wounded guards got up and rubbed their eyes when they also saw Poppy standing there and the Yeti face first in the ground.

            Before they could say or do anything else, Poppy ran toward Dobby, grabbed his arm and started to dash across the field toward the Northern towers. They stayed close by the edge walls and watched as the guards hovered around the Yeti. One of them took credit for knocking down the beast, and the remaining guards that could stand attempted to lock it up.

            "Is Dobby okay?" whispered Poppy as she hurried along the wall.

            "Thanks to Poppy," he said. "Poppy isn't like other elves."

            "No," she said.

            They stopped in front of a narrow, dirt pathway. Their was a small gap in the walls with a transparent force field in the between it. Poppy motioned Dobby to follow her across it.

            "They don't guards it," she said.

            "How does Poppy know this?"

            She turned her head slightly, her glossy lips inches away from Dobby's. His knees became weak, and just when he leaned in she continued to talk. ""Cause barrier is on. Whenever barrier is there, they don't guards it."

            Poppy pointed at the shimmering air in between the gap. Even though Dobby wasn't entirely sure they wouldn't get caught, he believed Poppy. She already saved his life, so there wasn't much to lose.

            The beautiful elf's hand grabbed onto Dobby's, and she pulled him forward. They ran across the field path, hand in hand, safely passing by the opening. As they almost cleared it, Dobby looked over his right shoulder to spot at least one hundred black robes just dangling in the air. The one closest to him slowly turned around, and he could see the bluish white face of a very dead wizard looking back at him.

            "What is that!?" Dobby asked as Poppy still pulled him along.

            "Dobby doesn't need to know about them," she said quickly. "Come, the keeper is close."

            Again, Dobby turned his head, but the wizard's back was toward him. Within a second, they were completely past the gap, and he could no longer see the hanging wizards at the Docks of the Moor.

            The northern towers stood tall. Their shadows fell over the house elves as they approached a side door. Poppy held up her palm, placed on the slate handprint, and the door dissolved into the ground.

            "Keeper is way up high," she said pointing upward at the ceiling.

            "So Dobby will give keeper clothes, and keeper will give clothes to Poppy, and Poppy will be free."

            "It sounds so simple," she said. "Is Dobby ready?"

            "For what?"

            Poppy then smacked her hands across her forehead, digging in slightly with her nails. Thin slices of her skin flaked under her smooth nails. Dobby reached forward, pulled her hands away and smirked.

            "So native elves aren't so different," he said. "Now, Poppy, what does Dobby have to be ready for?

            "For the watchers," she said. "Watchers protect tower. Must be careful."

            "Where are watchers, Poppy?"

            She pointed up and then to her sides. _"Everywhere."_

The two elves now walked close together through the halls, with Dobby trying to reach for Poppy's hand. The corridor stretched upward and spiraled, passing several cells with small barred windows.

            Suddenly, Poppy pulled Dobby over to the side, placed her slender index finger on his lips and hushed him. Then, she grabbed Dobby's hand and started to run through a brick wall. Dobby quickly closed his eyes, unsure of he would smack into once more.

            But, he didn't. Instead, he emerged on the other side in a very small, murky room. The walls were covered with shelves of books. Cases of similar thick, dusty novels centered the room. On the side was one couch, leather, with a painting of a Chinese man above it.

            "Watchers cannot watch here," said Poppy.

            "Was somebody coming?" asked Dobby. "Is that why Poppy has brought Dobby here?"

            She nodded her head slightly. "Dobby's ears aren't so good, are they? Prisoners have woken… Poppy will not pass them."

            "Why not?"

            She hissed. "They be very very bad prisoners… Evil men."

            Dobby perked his ears. "So Harry Potter is not here," he paused. "What is this room?"

            "A library," she said. "He used it to plan his escape."

            Dobby didn't know whom she was referring to or what event, but he heard the word escape and that was all that mattered.

            "Tell me more about that, Poppy."

            She nodded and rushed over to the couch. Immediately, she pointed at the painting and seemed to be resisting bowing to him.

            "He loved the keeper's daughter… But he could not stay here any longer. He claimed innocence, like Dobby claims his Harry Potter. He was brought here sometime in late 1300s… Poppy doesn't remember exactly."

            "Wait… Poppy's been here since then?" Dobby asked, shocked. She didn't look a day over thirty.

            "Oh yes… Even before… Poppy has been here very long time."

            "But you haven't aged."

            Dobby then sat next to Poppy on the leather couch and stared into her beautiful purple eyes. They glistened, drawing Dobby into them.

            "Of course not. We do not age here," she said easily. "Dobby knows that. Now, does Dobby want to here more about—"

            "Yes, please," said Dobby quickly.

            She nodded. "Well, he was brought here—"

            "Does he have a name?"

            "Riddle. Thomas Riddle," she whispered. "But he was only called the Riddle man… He fell in love with Arianna Chang, and she the same. Something terrible happened."

            "What?" asked Dobby, nearly falling off his seat.

            "Arianna told Riddle Man about father, the keeper. How he built prison with his slaves and only his blood could let anyone leave it. That's when Riddle man became guilty."

            "What does Poppy mean 'became guilty'? If he was here, he was already—"

            "No," she said. "He never meant to do his first crime… That's what rumor tells. So he was sent here, claiming innocence. One night he became guilty."

            "How?" Dobby asked, completely focused on Poppy's purple eyes.

            "Riddle man tried to kill keeper! But he did not. He made a mistake. So he became guilty and was locked up just down this corridor."

            "And Poppy claims he escaped."

            "Poppy doesn't claim, Poppy knows he did," she said. "Poppy helped him."

            "What?" Dobby asked and leapt off his couch. "Poppy helped criminal?"

            "Other keeper asked her to," she said. "So Poppy showed Riddle man secret room, and how to enter it from cell."

            Dobby was floored. How could Poppy help a criminal, who tried to kill her beloved keeper, escape? Then, Dobby thought about the name. It was so familiar to him. Perhaps Harry Potter told it to him once.

            The secret room was full of very old books, some of them scattered on the floor. One in particular was left open on the ground showing a detailed tree, a family tree. It had several Chang names written upon it, with the keeper at the top with Arianna right below him.       

            Dobby still didn't understand how Poppy still worked for the keeper when she helped the man who tried to kill him escape. Perhaps the keeper didn't know.

            "We musts go get Poppy free," Dobby reminded her.

            "When prisoners sleep, we go."

            "And when is that?"

            She didn't answer. Instead, she stared at the painting of Mister Chang, the keeper. Dobby saw in those gorgeous eyes a feeling of loneliness. She may have not seen her master in centuries, or felt guilty about betraying him. Even when Dobby asked the question again, she ignored him and just stared, fixated on the painting.

            There was a knocking on the cell door. Hermione turned and waited to see a house elf's eyes popping back at her. But she didn't.

            "Who's there?" asked Ron who also approached the door.

            But there was no answer. Instead, three bowls materialized inside the cell. Harry noticed them first.

            "Maybe the elves are in a rush today," he said.

When he looked into the bowls, he saw only two of them were full of soup. The middle bowl was completely empty of any liquid. Instead, there was a message.

"I don't think that was a house elf," said Harry. "Look."

Soon, Hermione and Ron saw the folded up note. Nobody touched it, already confused enough by the map. They didn't want any more unexplainable surprises.

"We can't just keep staring at it," said Ron. "I'm gonna open it."

"Be care—"

"I know, Hermione," he said as he rolled his eyes.

Ever so gently, Ron bent over and clutched the note lying on the bottom of the soup bowl. He unfolded it and began to skim it over to himself.

"Well?"

Ron looked up with a very perplexed face. His nose was crinkled a bit, and his eyes did that squinting thing they do.

            "I think you should see it yourself," he said and handed it over to Hermione.

            Harry moved to her side, and they both read the note intently.

'Cell 369,

            You've found my map now use it wisely. Beware the watchers, and you shall get your reward. I know you're secret.'

            "There's no signature," said Harry.

            "Whoever it is, they're trying to help us," Ron said,

            "Or kill us."

            "Why does it always have to be a trick?" Ron asked defensively. "Couldn't you once say, 'Yes, Ron, I agree,' or 'This could be our way out'. No, you have to bring us all down."

            "I'm just thinking clearly!" she yelled. "Right now we aren't dead. Right now we still can escape, so I am looking on the bright side. I just know when to suspect something's up, which you obviously can't do."

            Ron was ready to punch her, if only she wasn't a girl. "Just shut up."

            "What?"

            "You heard me. Just shut up."

            Hermione swung her left arm and upper cut Ron under his chin. He fell backward, smacking his head on a soup bowl. The liquid poured over his head.

            Harry couldn't help but laugh. Those two were meant for each other, whether they knew it then or not. As Ron and Hermione talked out their differences, meaning sat there and saying nothing at all, Harry looked over the note.

            Whoever was helping them said they knew a secret. But Harry didn't know that he had a secret to keep… If only they could leave their cell, and actually use the map like the stranger said to do.

            "The map!" yelled Harry.

            He ran over to the slate ground that had the permanent ink tattooed onto it.  The three dots were still there, but now, a fourth dot appeared in the northern tower. Whatever it was, it was moving fast across the Midpoint field and straight toward their tower…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

            Poppy stared at the painting for several minutes, her lids unblinking. Eventually, Dobby left her side and crawled about the floors of the secret library room. From the corner of his round eyes he found an Atlas book lying on the messy ground. The cover was blank, brown and very old. It had worn edges that bent inward and a small tear on the side.

            Slowly, Dobby picked it up and turned over the cover. The book only contained a few pages, perhaps twenty at the most, each with funny drawings. It only took Dobby a second or two to realize it was the very same island he was trapped on.

            When Dobby touched the triangular island, the image lifted off the page and was now in 3-D. Wherever Dobby tilted his head, the image followed him. He twirled about, almost dropping the book, and still the image followed him.

            Then, he placed the book on the ground and lied down next to it. He propped his head onto his hands, his elbows bent to the floor, and studied the transparent image.

            He pointed his pinky finger at the northern and then moved it downward until it fell over a spot on the map, which chilled his skin. Chinese characteristics were written over it, but Dobby didn't understand them.

            "Dobby must go!" Poppy suddenly yelled.

            Dobby dropped the book, the image disappeared, and he smacked his chin on the floor. Quickly, he was pulled to his feet and brushed off the dust. Poppy started to push him toward the brick wall, but Dobby dug his heels into the ground.

            "But Poppy wants to be free, does she not?"

            "Yes, but if Dobby does not leave, Dobby will diieee," she said in a very serious tone. She gritted her teeth on the last word die.

            "Please, stop! Explain to Dobby!" He pleaded, his heels turning red.

            "No time! Master will find us!"

            And then, Dobby did something he didn't mean to do. He stopped resisting and closed his eyes and thought about Harry Potter. Even though Harry was never his master, he held him just as high or even higher than one.

            As Dobby thought even more about finding Harry, he felt a cool sensation come over his body. Everything became numb and dulling. His body was very light, and the smell of crisp, clean air filled his nose and then his lungs.

            When Dobby opened his eyes, he was no longer in the secret library room. Instead, he hovered in the air outside, his body touching nothing but air. Quickly, Dobby panicked and tried to find anything around him to grab on to, but there was nothing at all.

            As his body began to fall, he realized he must have transported himself outside by just thinking about Harry. It had been so long since he used his powers so frequently… He must have lost control for a second and transported himself without even realizing it.

Dobby snapped his fingers, and gently his feet touched the sands below. If his transporting techniques were growing, it was to his advantage. All he had to do was think about the person he wanted to see, and he would materialize right there. He had heard of some house elves with that ability, but of course, they only used it to go to their master when they were called…

'Harry Potter,' Dobby thought to himself. For some reason, he considered Harry like a master in his mind, even though the Malfoys were his previous owners. Dobby tried to block that out as he thought about what Harry looked like, smelt like and even sounded like.

It happened again. A cool rushing sensation came over him, and he knew he was about to lift off the ground. Everything became hazy, and his stomach felt as if it had been punched. Just as Dobby thought about throwing up, his body felt calm again. Nothing spun around him, and his toes suddenly felt sand squishing in between them.

He was outside of the Eastern Towers. A few dead guards still lay littered on the ground, but the majority of them had disappeared. That was why Poppy wanted Dobby to leave. They had just brought the Yeti in, and she must have known that the keeper would want to see it.

Dobby sighed and lifted his hand against the elf handprint like he had done before. If he was correct, Harry Potter was someone in that tower. However, he had no idea which room.

            "What is it Harry?" Hermione asked as she walked away from Ron still on the floor.

            "I saw a black dot coming from over there," he said and pointed. "It darted across the map and now… there it is. It's inside."

            Hermione squinted her eyes. "Are you sure it's not a piece of dirt?"

            She licked her fingers and tried to wipe away the ink; but it didn't work. Then, the dot began to move, causing Hermione to jolt back into Harry's arms. Ron gave him a dirty look.

            "I told you I saw it moving," he said. "I wonder what it is."

            "Let's hope it's not—" Hermione stopped and looked over at Ron who gave her that 'her she goes again' look.

Suddenly, she realized exactly what Ron was trying to tell her earlier. It wasn't about who was right or wrong, it was about how she was acting toward them. Her terrible mood wasn't helping at all. Even if she was being smart and precautious, doubting everything did make it seem as if they would never leave.

"Let's hope it's help," she continued.

Ron smiled at her. "That's the spirit!"

"Well, help or not, it's moving again," said Harry.

They watched as the black dot moved throughout the corridors very slowly. It seemed to be stopping every few feet, and then walking once again. After about twenty minutes, the dot appeared on the same floor as Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"It's here!" yelled Hermione.

            Dobby felt like giving up. He had poked his head into over three hundred cells with no luck at all. There were only a few floors left, so he continued anyway. When he came across the fortieth cell of floor, he read the numbers "369" to himself.

            "Did you hear that?" asked Ron. "That sounded like Dobby."

            "Dobby!" yelled Harry.

            Outside of the cell, Dobby jumped back, hearing his own name called. "Harry Potter?"

            "Yes, Dobby! We're in here!"

            Dobby snapped his fingers and quickly appeared in front of three horrible looking young people. They wore ratty clothes, had dirt all over their faces and smelled like putrid body odor.

            The group immediately hugged Dobby tightly, surrounding him completely. After he pleaded that he was suffocating, the group let go, and Dobby stepped forward.

            "Can you get us out of here?" asked Harry.

            "Of course," he said. "That's why Dobby came, to rescue master."

            "Master?" Harry said, followed by Hermione echoing the same thing.

            "Nevermind," said Dobby. "We must goes before guards return."

            "You mean there aren't any guards?" Hermione asked.

            Dobby shook his head. "Terrible, terrible thing. It killed them! But some alive, and some will come unless we goes!"

            The group didn't understand. They hadn't seen the Yeti and had no idea what Dobby was talking about. It didn't matter though, because he was there, and they were that much closer to escaping.

            "Come now," said Dobby.

He grabbed onto the wrists of all three of them and closed his eyes. Just as he had done when the ship was sinking, he transported the whole group only a small distance. They reappeared on the first floor on the tower, still inside.

"It didn't work?" asked Ron still seeing dark stone walls.

"No, it did! Look!" Hermione pointed at an opening not too far ahead.

It was the same door that Dobby and the elves used to get inside. That meant that house elves were near by or had just possibly entered to feed the prisoners.

"We must hurry!" Dobby yelled.

He motioned the group to follow him as he ran through the open door. They cleared the building without any other house elves in sight, nor any guards. It was very cold, and something definitely wasn't right.

            "Are you sure they aren't any guards?" asked Hermione only a few inches from Dobby.

            "Shh," he whispered.

            The crept along the eastern walls trying not to make any sounds. They eventually came to the gap that Dobby had to pass earlier. Still, no guards were there but something was different. The gap no longer shimmered as it had before.

            "Dobby, wait up," said Harry. He ran ahead of Ron and Hermione and stood next to Dobby. "Where do you plan on taking us?

            "Back to Poppy's secret room," he said. "Dobby promised to free them."

            "Free who?" asked Hermione. "And who is Poppy?"

            "Dobby will explain once we get there," he said.

            They began to walk across the dirt path in front of the gap. Dobby went first with Harry by his side. As they inched across, Dobby finally noticed that the barrier was no longer there.

            Suddenly, a dart hit Dobby's neck, and instantly, he hit the ground. Seeing this, Hermione and Ron started to run in the other direction and hoped to hide in between two of the cell towers. Harry turned as well, but just as he was about to make a run, something touched his shoulder.

            "You think you can run that easily," said a woman's voice.

            It was a robed guard with curly read hair. She looked very much like a Weasley actually, but it couldn't be. Perhaps it was a very distant relative or someone that she resembled the Weasleys. She even had the freckles.

            As Harry studied her face, she quickly pointed her staff at Dobby, which made him disappear completely. Then, she pointed it at Harry, and chains appeared around his arms and legs.

            Suddenly, his scar began to throb in pain. "Ow," he moaned.

            "Are they too tight? Good," she said nastily. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

            Harry's body began to levitate. It floated through the gap and past the dangling nooses. Hundreds of wizards and witches hung with rope tied around their necks. Some of them were obviously dead, but at the same time, their chests were moving up and down. It was some sort of perpetual death.

            Before Harry could get a good look at any of them, a noose fell over his head and then tightened around his neck. His body slumped downward, and it was getting very hard to breath. If he was supposed to die, it didn't work.

            As he hung there for several minutes, he felt his scar again throbbing. It wasn't as bad as it was earlier, but it was still fairly painful. The stinging nerved the back of his eyes, and it was as if a fire was burning behind them.

            Then, he saw the impossible. A man appeared, floating before him with a dark, stubbly beard and thick hair. His face was thin and pale and very dreary looking. He wore shabby clothes, very dirty and worn, and appeared to be reaching out his hands toward Harry.

            "Sirius," Harry whispered. "Are you… are you a ghost?"

            But Sirius didn't talk. Instead, he just floated there as Harry's scar throbbed. The more it hurt, the clearer Sirius's image was. It was horrible. So many times had Harry wished to see Sirius again, but not like that, not like that at all.

            Suddenly, Sirius was gone, and Harry was no longer hanging at the docks. At least, that's what he thought. His body now stood in a cell, but it was not the cell he was in before.

            A young man lay on the ground with a woman next to him. They were kissing each other on the lips. She wore a dark robe with a golden tie around her waist. And he wore drab, holy clothing that hadn't been washed in ages.

            "Hello?" Harry asked.

            But the two couldn't see or hear him. He actually wasn't even there. It was his scar again and his visions or dreams or whatever you'd like to call them. Again, he was in the past, but he didn't know when. This wasn't like this other dreams, because in this one, he was physically in the room. It felt so real.

            "Arianna, if you're father catches us," the man began to speak.

            "What is he going to do? He would never harm me," she said. "Oh, Tom, I know you hate it here. Especially because you think you're innocent."

            "Because I am innocent! Last October, I was with my family on a ship exploring the Pacific ocean. We found some coral reeves and islands and settled down for a few days. Then, we were about to leave—"

            "I know, you've told me this story a million times. Just as you were about to leave, there was a huge fire. Your parents were killed, and you were brought here."

            "I didn't do anything! I'm not even one of you," he said.

            "But you are a wizard, Tom," she said sweetly. "You just don't know it yet… We don't make mistakes here. You did _something_."

            "You think I killed them? You always have… I'm not getting into that, _again_! You better go," he said.

Then, he gently kissed her lips, and she left the room. As Harry looked at the man's face, something struck him. He was so familiar yet not… It hit him. The name Tom…

He looked so much like the Tom Riddle he saw from the diary several years ago and when he saved Ginny from the serpent. But it couldn't have been Tom Riddle. At least, it wasn't the one Harry was thinking about.

Little did Harry know that this Tom Riddle was not Lord Voldemort but his father, who happened to have the same name. He was born in the late 1300s and was sentenced to the Devil's Triangle after accidentally killing his parents with a fire he started. He had no idea he was a wizard, and just like Harry accidentally let a serpent loose on Dudley, this Tom accidentally started a fire on his parents.

Tom was locked away for several hundreds of years. In the late 1800s, this Tom Riddle finally escaped, with the help of a house elf named Poppy and his lover, Arianna, after failing to escape in the 1400s when he murdered Mr. Lee. This Tom Riddle found a woman in the early 1900s and bore a son… This Tom Riddle found out his wife was a witch and left her… He already loved one witch; he could never love another.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"What are we going to do, Ron?" Hermione asked.

The flaming red haired boy shook his head and smirked. "I dunno. They got Harry and Dobby."

"If I remember that map correctly, that gap leads out to sea. I think that's where Harry went."

"Do you s'pose he's dead?"

"Ron! That's a terrible thing to say!" Hermione raised her voice and smacked Ron in the arm.

"Shh, watch it. Do you want us to be captured again?"

"No," she said in a much lower voice. "We can't just stand out here. Someone will see us."

They stood in between two towers, both against a wall that hid the Docks of the Moor from them. If only they could see the pain Harry was in. As they stood, trying to think about where to go and what to do, they heard footsteps.

Both of them stood without saying a word. Ron started to huff his air, making weird wheezing noises. Quickly, Hermione cupped her hands over his mouth, which only made him suffocate and try to pull away.

It was very hard to stop breathing all together. Ron and Hermione stood inches away from each other, their hot breath clouded around their faces. Ron was the first to stare at Hermione's lips and then she looked at his the same. Slowly, he leaned in, tilting his head to the left.

Hermione didn't move at all. She was probably telling herself that this was real, and Ron was really trying to kiss her. He had wonderful timing.

"Oh my god, what was that?" Hermione asked and jolted back.

Ron fell back where he was, pretending nothing happened. There was a loud crack nearby, possibly even around the corner.

"Poppy knew this was a bad idea," said a high, squeaky voice. "Poppy tells Dobby to go, and he goes. Stupid stupid Poppy."

"That must be the one Dobby was talking about," whispered Ron to Hermione. She nodded in return and poked out her head slightly.

Immediately, the pretty girl elf spotted Hermione's face. Poppy scrunched her nose and snarled, perhaps never seeing a young girl before. There were no teenagers on the island as far as she knew.

"Are you Harry Potter?" she asked, spotting Ron.

He shook his head. "No."

Poppy turned around and began to walk away. Quickly, Hermione jabbed Ron in the ribs, causing him to cough. She glared at him, and nodded her head very fast.

"What? Oh…Wait, Poppy! I, I, I lied," stuttered Ron. "I am Harry Potter."

The house elf abruptly stopped, twirled about and darted toward them. She had a weird grin from cheek to cheek.

"You are Dobby's freer?" she asked.

"Uh, sure, whatever you say," he said. Again, Hermione jabbed him in the ribs. He smacked her forearm away and then gave a quick smirk to Poppy. "I mean, of course I am."

"So Dobby wasn't lying?"

"No," said Ron.

"Bad Dobby, bad bad Dobby," hissed Poppy in a very different, very angry voice. "I hopes he was lying, but if you say you freed Dobby, then Dobby is really free…"

"Of course he is free! AS should you and all the other elves should be!" Hermione yelled and flailed her arms. "It's horrendous that they still enslave you! Even out here!"

"Calm down," hushed Ron.

"I will not calm down!" she shouted and put her hands on Poppy's shoulders. "You should be free, and I will make sure you are."

"NO!" Poppy screamed back in that same angry tone.

She put her arms forward and blasted Hermione back with a dazzling array of pink. Hermione flew backwards into Ron's arms, and he also fell to the ground. Poppy stood there, her usually purple eyes now flaring a shade of red.

"You sentence me to die!" she screamed.

Hermione gave a confused look, her brow raised. "Die? What are you talking about?"

"Dobby will die if Dobby is free! A free elf is a dead elf! Poppy doesn't want to die!" she screamed. "Poppy hoped that Dobby was lying… Poppy took Dobby away so perhaps he could confess his lies… But all Dobby talked about was freedom. Poppy knew then he was telling truth. Poppy had to tell on him."

"You told on him?" said Hermione. "What do you mean?"

"Poppy did good," she said proudly. "Poppy told other keeper, and she told guards about Dobby."

"You're the reason why Harry and Dobby got caught!" yelled Hermione.

Suddenly, she realized what she had said. She had forgotten that Ron was 'supposed to be' Harry. Unfortunately, Poppy caught her mistake and glared over at Ron. She then snapped her fingers and completely disappeared.

"We better make a run for it," Hermione said. "She's going to tell them where we are."

Ron helped Hermione up, his sweaty hand sliding off of hers. He gulped loudly, turned his head a few times and then sighed.

"Um, do you know where we're running to? 'Cause I sure bloody hell don't," Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We can't go looking for Harry. There are guards there for sure. I wish Dobby were here."

"So do I… Oh, this bloody awful. I'm sorry about before. I—"began Ron .

"Holy cricket," interrupted Hermione. "Look."

A line of seven house elves, all skinny and naked, walked nearby to the left tower, each holding a bowl of soup. One stood forward, lifted his hand against a slate paneling, and the rest followed him in. Hermione looked to Ron, and he did the same to her.

            Both darted behind the elves and ran into the tower. They were safer inside at least. But they knew there had to be some guards inside.

            "Okay, now what?" asked Ron immediately.

            "Shh. Must I think of _everything_?"

            "You are the smartest," he said kindly.

            "I know that," she said and laughed. He laughed too. It was a strange sight to see. Two escaped prisoners, wearing clothes reeking of body odor, standing in a cell tower awaiting to be captured—and yet they stilled laughed.

            "So, if they get us again, we might be separated," said Ron very seriously. "Before that happens, I really need to tell you something."

            Hermione took in a deep breath, and then slowly said, "Okay…"

            "Well, I think you know, well, you have to know, of course you know, well, you might not. Sorry… I've been trying to tell you, and it's really hard to tell you, not just cause it's you, well, maybe, but that's not a bad thing, it's cause you're such a great friend, that's why it's hard, and even though it's hard, I just couldn't help myself, so I —"

            "You're babbling, Ron," said Hermione.

            "Right… Okay, here it goes," he started and then took in several deep breaths. "I'm in," he paused.

            "Don't stop now! Go on," insisted Hermione.

            But Ron didn't go on. Instead, he stared beyond Hermione's head and over her shoulders to somebody standing behind her. After a few seconds, she caught on and tried not to move.

            A Chinese woman stood, her hair very long, sleek and black. She didn't say anything, but just stood there looking at Ron and then at Hermione.

            She reached into her pockets for something. Ron didn't want to stay and find out what it was. Instead, he bolted and attempted to run down the corridor. Hermione chased after him, her little skinny legs pumping fast.

            They turned a curved corner and practically ran into a dead end wall. Ron stopped short, and Hermione fell on to his back. Both toppled over to the ground, Hermione lying on top of Ron's chest.

            _Pop._

            The woman appeared out of nowhere.

            "Shh," she said. "I'm not here to harm you."

            Ron looked up at her as he tried to brush Hermione off a bit. Her hand was reaching forward like a gesture that she wanted to help them up.

            "Who, who, who are you?" stuttered Ron.

            "They call me Arianna. I'm your friend. I'll help you escape," she said.

            "Why?" Hermione asked, now sitting next to Ron with her left leg bent over Ron's right.

            Arianna sighed and kneeled down. "I know your secret."

            "Secret? What secret?" Ron asked.

            "You're innocent," she said. "I can tell… I loved a man that was just the same. That look on your face… I knew it the first time I saw the three of— Where is the other one? The one with the scar?"

            Ron gulped and hesitated to answer. It could have been a trick. But Hermione answered for him and very loudly too.

"You should know. Your people caught him!"

"Did they?" Arianna said but didn't seem surprised. "Don't worry. He'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

"Okay… What about Dobby?" asked Hermione.

"The elf that wore clothes? I'm afraid my own elf may have gotten to him."

"What do you mean, 'gotten to him'?"

Arianna looked away. "My house elf… Trixy.. She's in charge of all the others… She doesn't like elves that claim freedom. She probably killed him by now."

"No!" shouted Hermione.

"Shh, someone will hear—" Ron started.

"I don't care! It's not fair! Dobby saved our lives and now he's dead for it!"

She started to cry. Streaks of water fell down her cheeks and over her lips. Ron tried to wipe some away, but she smacked his arm and continued weeping into her own cupped hands. Arianna, however, just smiled.

"What are you smiling at?" asked Ron.

"You can't die here… Hurt badly, yes, but never die," she said.

"Then why did you just say he was probably killed!" Hermione yelled, her face red.

"I thought you two would know by now you can't die here," she started. "You, you broke your arm when you first got here." She pointed to Ron. "Ever wonder why it's perfectly fine now?"

"I dunno," he said and rubbed his arm. "Does this mean that Harry's all right too?"

"I told you already. He'll be fine. Now, I have to lock you away."

"What!?" Hermione again shouted and rose to her feet.

Arianna hushed her. "Only until I can find you a safe passage out. Once and a while we have visitors here. I know for a fact that a researching team from Tibet will be here in a few days to observe the Yeti."

"Yeti?" gulped Ron.

"Yes… When they leave, I'll try to get you in the group to Disapparate out."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And why should we believe _you_? You're trying to lock us up."

"Sweetie—"

"_Don't _call me that! I don't even know you!"

"Hermione, maybe we should just listen to her," said Ron, and he placed his hands on her shoulder. "It's either she puts us away or some other guard will."

"All right."

"Wonderful," said Arianna.

Within minutes, chains were locked around their ankles and hands, and they were brought back up to their cell. The exact same cell actually. It was odd that Arianna would know where it was.

"I hope that woman was telling the truth," said Ron.

They sat next to each on a raised stone bed. Their hands were no longer tied; the cuffs had disappeared just like they had before. Both of them looked down to the ground. Ron fiddled with his thumbs as he talked, and Hermione was staring at the tattooed map.

There was more silence. For some reason it was very difficult to talk. The room was almost pitch black with the exception of one candle lit, which illuminated the map perfectly.

"I think you were trying to tell me something before," started Hermione after about fifteen minutes of silence, which of course seemed like hours.

"I was?"

"Unless you don't want to tell me anymore…"

"No, no, I do," he said nervously. His voice was shaking and squeaking a little. He cleared his throat. "It's just that… I never know when to tell you. Every time I even think about it, something bad happens… I, I, I—"

"Do you like me… as more than a friend, Ron?" asked Hermione. She moved in closer to him.

"Oh! Well, um… Yes," he said _very _quickly. "Actually, no."

"No?" Hermione spun her head and glared a bit. "What do you mean, no?"

"I don't _like_ you more than friend," he started. Hermione's heart sunk for a moment. "I don't like you… I love you."

"What?"

"I love you, Hermione Granger," Ron said very softly but clearly. "I always have."

"Oh, Ron!"

Hermione grabbed his head with her hands and kissed him intensively. Of course, Ron didn't resist her at all. He kissed back, his lips touching hers. They moved their heads back and forth and adjusted their hands too.

After a good minute, Ron pulled back a little and Hermione followed. They caught their breath, stared into each other's eyes and smiled.

"I've been waiting for this moment for so long," said Ron.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I dunno… But you know now… And from that kiss, I guess you're ok with it?

"Duh, you idiot," she said. "But you're my idiot now."

Again, she leaned in, and they embraced each other. Ron leaned back slowly onto the stone bed, and Hermione laid on top. They continued kissing each other passionately until exhaustion fell over them, and they slept peacefully. Ron's arm lay snug around Hermione's neck, and the other arm wrapped over her waist.

They were together at last.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

            His body fell. Harry hit the wooden planks hard. The noose had disappeared completely. Standing beside him was the same red haired woman who had hung him. He couldn't remember exactly how long he was up there, but he did remember the dream he had… Tom Riddle… Harry shook his head and attempted to get up.

            "My orders are to release you from the Docks," the guard said, "and to take you back to your original cell. As much to my dismay, I must comply with my orders."

            His stomach felt like it was being stomped on. First in fell down and now he was up again. His neck was free, but in their place, he had chains smacked onto his ankles and wrists once again.

            Off in the distance, on the opposite side of the island, there was one very tall western tower. Inside, there was a kitchen with several elves and above that kitchen were many storage closets and elf bedrooms, which were just as small or even smaller than a prisoner cell. And sitting against a wall in one quiet large bedroom was Dobby.

            He rested against a brick wall with his lies bound together with leathers straps, a piece of black leather glued to his lips and his waist chained to the wall. Another house elf, much taller than Dobby, stood nearby. It was the leader elf, Trixy.

            "I've been told some very disturbing things about you," she said and then hissed, "_Dobby."_

She smacked him hard with the back of her hand. She spat at his face with a wad of spit and waited to see his response. But Dobby didn't say anything to her. He couldn't say anything because of the leather attached his lips. Instead, he just opened his eyes and focused in on the elf abusing him.

            "Do you know who I am?"

            Dobby tried to shake his head, but it hurt so much that he was only able dart his eyes back and forth.

            "My keeper calls me Trixy… And your keeper… Oh yes, you claim to have _no _keeper," she hissed. "That will not do, not do at all."

            She grabbed Dobby's chin and pinched it tightly. If Dobby could scream, he would have. Then, Trixy quickly grassed a brass rob and swung at Dobby's chest. There was a loud crack, but she continued beat his ribs.

            Dobby didn't know what he did to deserve this. It was horrible. But whenever Trixy pulled away, the pain also started to stop. There was a blow, then shooting pain, and then it was okay again.

            "If only I could kill you," she hissed. "I wish your pain could last forever…"

            "Stop it!" a high shrieking voice boomed from out of nowhere.

            Poppy stood just a few feet away near an ugly, polka dotted lamp. Her nostrils flared, and her cheeks had turned a shade of pink.

            "Oh, it's just you," said Trixy. "Here to have a little fun?"

            "Trixy hurts Dobby."

            Poppy ran over to Dobby's side and kneeled down next to his bruised body. She patted his side and caressed his plum colored cheek. He had several broken blood vessels that swelled under his skin.

            "Dobby will be okay… Just needs time to heal," she said. "Poppy never wanted to hurt Dobby."

            "Oh, please," said Trixy. She pushed Poppy aside. "You hate him just as much as I do. His freedom affects us all. What next? The other elves might follow him. I've already heard rumors of some elves 'researching' this freedom concept… They want to know more."

            "But they cannot be freed. Keeper would never—"

            "It's not the freedom that has me worried. Knowledge is power," said Trixy. "Remember that. Once they think it's possible, they will do whatever they can to have it… We must stop the source of this power. Dobby must die."

            "But he cannot!" Poppy yelled. "Even if Trixy found a way to do it, Poppy wouldn't let her kill Dobby! Dobby is a friend…"

            "Dobby is threat! A horrendous, despicable threat! He has already corrupted you, Poppy. You still speak in third person, like he does… Perhaps power has gotten to your mind."

            "No," Poppy whispered. "Dobby is not a threat. Poppy—I will not let you kill him."

            Trixy smiled and then glided her hand over the brass rod slowly. "It's already too late. It has been arranged by keeper for him to leave."

            "What is Trixy… What are you talking about?"

            Trixy smacked Dobby again with the rod, right in the eye. Luckily, it wasn't severe enough to pop his eye right out, but it did do something terrible. He could not see out of his left eye at all. Everything was black there.

            "Stop it, Trixy!" yelled Poppy.

She was about to use her powers to blow her away, but instead, Trixy turned around and smacked Poppy as well with the rod. Poppy flew a few inches backwards, right on top of Dobby's lap. Her ear was cut badly and blood poured out.

"I'm sorry, Poppy, but I can't allow you to interfere with the goodness of our kind… You and your little boyfriend will have to leave the island together… Where both of you will die."

            "Tom," said a sweet but raspy voice. "It's time."

            "Are you sure your father won't blame you for this?"

            "He doesn't even know we are still together."

            The woman glided across the room and kissed the man on the lips for only a moment. Then, she tilted her head back and smiled.

            "Your house elf… Did she create the distraction yet?"

            "Any minute now," said the woman. "Poppy is very clever. She won't let us down."

            "I can't believe you still love me," said the man. "Even after I tried to…"

            Arianna sighed. "Don't bring that up again, please, for me."

            The man, however, continued, and paced about his cell.

            "You told me that only a Chang's blood could get me out of here… I took it too far. I nearly killed your father—"

            "That was over four hundred years ago!" Arianna yelled. "I didn't speak to you for a full Muggle life time."

            "Don't say that word…"

            "What? Muggle? You're _not_ one of them!"

            "I don't care how many times you insist I'm a wizard. I'm not," he said. "If I were, I'd be able to use powers like you."

            "You can and you have. Tom, you killed your parents. That's why they arrested you! I know, because _I_ was one of the guards who came to Apparate you here."

            Thomas Riddle, who almost always went by the name Tom, clenched his large teeth together. He was holding back so much anger toward the woman he loved. So many times she told him he was a wizard, but he never believed it. Arianna continued.

            "The difference between you and common murderer here is that you really didn't mean it. I know that, but the others don't. You never meant to set that fire. It was all an accident."

            "How would you know what happened?" asked Tom.

            "Because we always make sure the crime as been committed here… We have our ways of seeing things. The watchers see all."

            "Are you telling me you saw me murder my parents?"

            Arianna hesitated and bit her bottom lip. "Yes… You were asleep in a small tent right next to your mother and father's. You had a nightmare where spiders were chasing you. In your dream, you found—"

            "I found a torch to burn them away…"

            "What you didn't know was that in reality, you created a torch, a very big one… It's common for young wizards to accidentally use their parents. However, the guards for some reason thought you murdered them."

            "I don't understand… They saw what you saw, right? They saw I didn't mean it…"

            Arianna sighed. "All I know is that one guard saw your future and pleaded with Minister Lee to have you kept here forever."

            "Perhaps she was right… I killed Minister Lee."

            "No, if we had let you go, that never would have never happened. I've already thought about that… It was something else. The guard never told anyone about it."

            "Then maybe I shouldn't leave," said Tom.

            Arianna's eyes opened up. She slapped Tom on the cheek and snarled. "Thomas, out of all the stupid things you've said, that one takes the toll of it. I've… We've been working so hard to get you out and now you're thinking of staying? The nerve."

            "What if that guard was right? What if I do something terrible? I'd rather stay here than to murder anyone else."

            Arianna kissed him again. "If I can forgive you for attempting to kill my father, I can forgive you for anything that that guard might or might not have seen. Now come on. Poppy should be finished."

            If only that guard had told what she had seen, she could have prevented so much death. If she had only let Thomas Riddle escape, Harry Potter's parents would be alive. She had seen a glimpse of a set future in which Thomas Riddle was imprisoned and had later escaped. She had seen the birth of a young lad also named Tom Riddle… She saw a shadow of this same lad who had grown into a changed man, an evil man who killed so many… She had seen Lord Voldemort.

            Harry woke up from his dream. He was in the same cell as he was in the day before, with Hermione and Ron by his side. They were quite surprised when he was thrown in with them that morning. Perhaps Arianna was telling the truth about helping them escape; she knew that Harry would be fine, and he was, for the most part.

            "Harry," said Hermione. "Can you get up?"

            He turned and nodded. As he pushed against the floor, he realized his chains were gone. "Did you find a way out?"

            "Not exactly," said Ron. "But we do have someone helping us. I think she's the reason we aren't chained up. And she promises us a way out."

            "Who?" asked Harry.

            "A guard," said Hermione.

            "Why would a guard help us?"

            "I don't know," continued Hermione. "But if she wanted us dead, she could have done it by now."

            "Well, if we could die," muttered Ron.

            "What?"

            "We're immortal here, Harry," said Hermione. "Everything heals itself."

            "Like my scar," said Harry.

            "We figured that's why you're in so much pain," said Ron.

            But Harry shook his head. "No, it started hurting before we even came here."

            Hermione's eyes widened. "And you didn't tell us?"

            "I was going to," he lied. "I just didn't want you to think _He_ was after me."

            "What if He is?" started Hermione in a squeaking voice. "Maybe that's why we wound up here in the first place."

            "There's something else," said Harry.

            His dreams were getting more intense and more real. Harry barely remembered the ones he had on Privet Drive, but the ones he had on the island felt so real, like they really happened. He had to tell someone about them, before he lost his mind.

            "Go on."

            Harry took in a deep breath. "I've been having dreams, actually, more like nightmares. But they're very real."

            "What happens in them?"

            Ron and Hermione crowded around Harry and leaned in, waiting to here the truth.

            "Well, the last ones had the same people… It's silly really," said Harry and paused.

            "No, it's not," Hermione said. "It could be very important."

            "Come on, mate, we won't make fun of you for worrying too much."

            "Thanks," muttered Harry. He sighed and continued. "Well, there's this one man who's a prisoner. I think its happening here, on this island, but I don't really know."

            "Does he have a name?"

            "Um, well, yes," hesitated Harry. "Thomas," he paused and gulped.

            Ron nodded. "So, a guy named Thomas. What else?"

            "He has a girlfriend or mistress or something… She looks like Cho," remarked Harry, just making that connection now. "And the two were in love… And there was a name of a house elf I think… I don't remember it now."

            "Looked like Cho?" asked Hermione. "What was her name, Harry?"

            "Arianna."

            Ron and Hermione's eyes nearly popped out. It was the same woman helping them escape… And she was also in Harry's dreams?

            "Harry, that's the guard," said Hermione. "What happened in your dreams? Tell us everything."

            And Harry did. He went into great detail about everything he could remember. He even mentioned how Thomas looked like Tom Riddle, and how it was stupid thinking that. Hermione and Ron both thought differently on that.

            "If it was Lord Voldemort," Hermione said without even flinching saying the name, "then it explains why your scar hurts, even before you got here. Like a warning or something."

            "No," said Ron. "He couldn't have been alive then. You said it happened long ago, centuries. He wasn't even born yet."

            "True," said Hermione.

            "Thomas escaped or was going to," said Harry. "And that woman, Arianna, was helping him… It makes sense she would want to help us too. We have something in common with that Thomas man. We're innocent."

            "I thought you said that Arianna knew he wasn't innocent," said Ron.

            "Maybe she thought he was at some point," said Harry. "I dunno. But I do know that there's a good chance that Thomas escaped and that means we can too."

            Hermione nodded and smiled. "We just have to wait until the researching team gets here… However long that is."

            And they did just that. They waited.


End file.
